Misery Business
by SpiritLeTitan
Summary: Stan and Kyle are starting their senior year in high school, and after a crazy party at Clyde's, Kyle realizes he has feelings for Stan! But...does Stan feel the same way? Stan/Wendy, eventual Stan/Kyle.
1. Prologue

Misery Business 

Written by: Spirit-the-Titan and Jupiter52987

Fandom: South Park

Pairings: Stan/Wendy, eventual Stan/Kyle

Prologue

Sitting shotgun of Stan's truck, the first day of our senior year couldn't have been more unnerving for me. Just that morning I had been woken by a phone call from none other than Stan himself, quickly saying he had something to tell me before school, and he would give me a ride in return. With all that had happened that summer in mind, I waited anxiously for when Stan would finally tell me what the fuck his news was before I ripped all the curly hair that he was so fond of out of my head in agony.

But none of this probably makes sense, so let me start from the top…

The first weekend after school let out, Clyde decided to throw some stupid party for all of us to celebrate our last summer before we graduated, which I guess could be considered the root of my problems. Anyway, Kenny hadn't shut up about it all week; he really wanted to go because he knew Bebe was bringing her hot, out-of-town cousin along, and he'd had his eye on her from the moment she arrived in South Park. I had told them they could have fun without me, but Stan finally got me to cave by telling me this could be our only opportunity to really hang out this summer, since he was probably getting a job at Harbucks. Well, it's not like I had a choice, when he put it that way.

Two days before the party, I learned that Clyde's parents weren't going to be there, meaning there would be lots of alcohol. This meant I would have to lie to my mother about where I was going to be that night, which made me want to go even less. After I had continuously told Stan how much of a bad idea this was, he finally shut me up, and told me he had already worked everything out. He had arranged for me and Kenny to spend the night at his place (which gave me an alibi), and when it was time to go to the party, we were going to "go to the movies" (which gave him an alibi). Kenny was only there as a witness, really. As much as I didn't want to, I still agreed to go.

The night of the party, Stan had walked over to my house to help me bring my things over. I didn't ask why he didn't just drive. The walk was relatively silent, until he brought up college matters—a topic neither of us had really ever touched on.

"So, do you know were you're going yet?" he asked, and I looked at him.

"What do you mean?"

"College. Do you know where you're applying?" he clarified. I stared ahead as we walked.

"Not a clue. My parents want me to apply to some fancy school, like Stanford or Harvard, but I told them that's too much pressure. I don't wanna work too hard right out of high school, you know?" I looked over at him, and he was smiling.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he said.

"Why?"

"Because I don't know where I'm applying yet either, but it'll probably be like, City, or somewhere in Denver. And to know you don't know where you want to go yet sort of…helps me forget that we won't get to go to school together anymore."

Stan was still smiling, but behind that smile I knew this conversation was breaking him up inside. We had never really accepted the inevitable future of us someday graduating and never seeing each other again until recently, and he didn't seem to be taking it very well. Which made no sense at all, since he was the one to bring it up. But either way, he was my best friend, so I had to say _something_ to make it…I dunno, a less painful pill to swallow?

"Stan…You don't know we won't be going to college together. Who knows, we might both wind up right here in Colorado, going to school together in Denver," I said, trying to cheer him up some. He scoffed.

"Like your parents would let you do something like that." He had a point there.

"Fuck my parents. It's my life, and I'll do what I want!" I said, and he started laughing.

"Now you sound like Cartman." We both laughed at this.

By that time, we had reached his house. We went inside, and up to his room to deposit my items. I was surprised to see Kenny already there, lying on Stan's bed, reading a Playboy. He grinned at us as we walked in.

" ' Bout time you guys get here. I got so bored, I had to find myself some entertainment," he said, waggling the magazine. Stan gasped.

"Don't read that shit on my bed, dude! God knows _what_ you've done while reading it!" he told him, and Kenny laughed.

"I found it under _your _bed," he replied, and I watched Stan turn bright red, make a lunge for the magazine, and promptly replace it under his mattress.

"Let's just get ready. We only have an hour before the party, and we should probably leave sooner than that," Stan suggested, and Kenny and I nodded, doing just that.

About forty-five minutes later, we were in Stan's truck driving towards the movie theatre (in case we were being followed by one of our parents). Instead of actually parking there, we drove right past and headed for Clyde's house. I remember getting a feeling of dread in my gut for about five seconds over the whole idea, but I let it go. There was no use worrying this late in the game.

When we arrived, there were several cars everywhere, parked at or near Clyde's house. I recognized most of them, but some I had never seen before. Typical of Clyde to invite everyone in existence to his party.

I remember as soon as we walked in the door, we were met with Cartman. The stupid fat-ass had yelled to Clyde something about not inviting Jews to his party, so I shoved him hard and walked past him, Stan in tow. Kenny had ditched us ten seconds on arrival.

Stan and I made our way around, saying hi to people we knew, and fighting through crowds of people we didn't. We didn't exactly have a destination, so we kept walking until we found ourselves in the kitchen, where Craig, Token, Tweek, Red, Millie, and several other people I didn't recognize were hanging out, also where all the liquor was. Stan suggested we just hang in there, since the music wasn't quite as loud, and we'd have constant access to the beer. (He was only partially joking about that last part)

We wound up spending hours and hours in there, chatting with our friends, and kicking back beers. Honestly though, we didn't even have enough to get ridiculously drunk, like everyone else. We were only somewhat tipsy (or I was, at least. Don't really know about Stan). But around midnight, Stan decided to drag me and a couple more beers out back, where nobody else was. He told me he had a pounding headache, and needed some fresh air. I agreed, and followed.

The two of us sat out there for a good amount of time, talking about nothing in particular. And by nothing in particular, I mean we were reflecting on the past. That's about the time we started a conversation that would initially change out futures.

"Remember that time in like…fourth grade or something like that when you said you thought my hat was the best hat you knew?" I asked him, and followed my question with a swig of my beer. He did the same before answering.

"Yeah, sure. It really was the best hat around," he told me.

"I thought so, too."

"You know what though? I'm glad you don't wear it anymore. We can all see those pretty curls you hate so much now," he said, almost with a slur. It shocked me when he actually reached over and started fiddling with them. In fact, I think I was blushing.

I remember pushing him away playfully. "Dude, I _still _hate my hair."

"But why? It's so curly and cute!" I distinctly remember thinking 'what the fuck?' after he said that.

"No, my hair is _not_ cute. It's stupid. It's big and poofy and totally Jewish. I ought to just shave it off or something," I told him sternly, trying not to slur my words, and laughed shortly afterwards at the face he made.

"Dude, don't ever shave your head. I would probably never speak to you again if you did that." He was also sort of laughing as he said that.

"Why not?"

"Because…" he began, and paused for a moment.

A split second later, his forehead was pressed against the side of mine, and I could feel his hot breath on my cheek. It also smelled strongly of alcohol, but I think that's a given. Why I didn't push him away and ask him what in the name of Jesus he was doing, I have no idea. I think I just wanted to see what would happen next. Of course, that didn't really explain the sudden increase in my heart rate, or the heat rising in my cheeks.

"Because…?" I offered, trying to figure out what he was doing. Or going to do, at least.

"Because you would look _ridiculous_, and you just wouldn't be Kyle anymore," he said finally, and laughed. I snorted at his stupid answer.

But before our conversation could go any further, I felt him turn his head and look behind us into the house. Someone had caught his attention.

"Oh dude, there's Wendy! I haven't seen her all night! I'm gonna go say hi, I'll be right back," he informed me, and stumbled getting up.

"Don't fall, Jesus," I said with a laugh, and watched him walk away.

I was a little disappointed we didn't get to finish talking, and I even started to miss his warm breath on my cheek. I listened to him open and close the back door, and the faint sounds of chatter that followed, but I remained in my spot on the patio and thought about what just happened. It didn't take me long to realize that he had, in fact, been flirting with me like I was some cute girl. And even though I had somewhat known this during our entire conversation, I found it a bit weird that I didn't stop him from doing so. Maybe I thought I'd get a kick out of it later, or something?

What was even weirder, though, was my immediate thought after that: his flirting with me had been the highlight of my time at the party.

My thoughts after that were, "Oh my god, I _liked _flirting with him…Oh my _god_, I'm attracted to Stan!" (I may have dropped my beer bottle at that point, because I also faintly remember the sound of glass shattering as I realized this.) Of course, I may have been jumping the gun just a bit, but I _had_ just consumed about four or five bottles of beer, and clearly wasn't in my right mind.

By then, I had gotten up from my spot on the patio, and went inside to find Stan. I figured that if I was having these thoughts, it was best to get the fuck out of there, and get me sobered up. I kept telling myself it was only because of the alcohol and the party-hype as I searched frantically.

I finally found him in the living room with Wendy, talking above the noise and the laughter around them. They saw me walk up, and Stan smiled widely. I could have sworn Wendy gave me a dirty look, but I was too focused on leaving to really care. After explaining the situation, doing my best to leave out my assumptions, Stan said his goodbyes and we left.

The car ride to Stan's house was relatively silent, and it wasn't until we were in his room again that I realized we had forgotten Kenny. He laughed and told me that Kenny had probably hooked up with Bebe's cousin, and would be back in the morning (which he was). The rest of the night was also pretty silent; Stan had a headache too, so we got ready for bed and called it a night.

Or more like, _he_ called it a night. I let myself lay awake and sober up my mind, so I could think about everything more clearly. Was I really having feelings for Stan, or was I drunker than I thought I was, and just wanted some attention?

I had thought I was delusional, or something, because at about five in the morning, after all the alcohol wore off, I still wanted to be back in that place, that…atmosphere. With Stan. Gah, it was almost mentally painful how much I tried to deny it.

In fact, the few days to follow that I nearly drove myself crazy denying it. Though it was a little scary how often the topic even popped into my mind. I just kept reassuring myself, "You're not gay, you can't be gay! Girls are hot, and boys are…boys. You aren't attracted to them." The most frustrating part was when my conscious added, "Except Stan, you love him." I think the first time it did that, I bashed my face into my wall.

By the fourth day of continuous longing and denial, I had to give in. I was attracted to Stan Marsh. My best friend forever. Christ…

After accepting my feelings, I felt kind of good about it. Until I realized that in order for me to have any sort of satisfaction with my decision, Stan would have to feel the same way. And there was absolutely no way I was about to just march up to him and declare my feelings in hopes that he would return them. We're both boys, which made me realize that this was going to be way harder for me than I ever intended. Not to mention, Stan was probably only flirting with me in the first place because he had too much to drink. He wasn't exactly known for his ability to hold his liquor. But there was a part of me that believed maybe he was doing it on purpose?

I decided I needed to experiment with this. My plan was to have him over for a sleepover, and try to create the same type of scenario, or at least get him to talk the way he did at the party, only without the beer. How I managed to pull it off is beyond me. I mean, what if things didn't go as I planned them to? Seriously, how weirded out would Stan have been if I just started coming on to him, and he didn't react the way I hoped he would?

I had the sleepover a few nights later. Stan arrived around eight, and we played video games for several hours, watched some TV, yadda yadda. I basically tried to make everything seem completely normal, as if I didn't have an ulterior motive. We went to bed at like, two or three in the morning, and just stayed awake talking. That's when I put my plan into action.

"So, what did you and Wendy talk about at the party?" I asked. I know it could have very easily led to a completely different topic than I had intended, but it was the only thing I could think of that wouldn't seem suspicious. And even though it was a very simple conversation-starter, my heart was still racing.

"I don't remember, really. I was pretty drunk," he said with a laugh. I almost thought he was going to leave it at that and go somewhere else with the conversation, but he continued. "It was funny though, the first thing she said to me was, 'You guys sure look friendlier than usual.' I guess she had seen our faces pressed together and jumped to conclusions," he told me. Okay, he remembered that, and brought it up. It could show for something, right? I laughed lightly.

"Yeah, you were all up in my grill. [I don't even know why I said that. I thought you were going to kiss me or something." My heart skipped like, five beats after I said that. I had to make sure this was leading somewhere to my benefit. Of course, with such a bold move, it could also very easily have blown up in my face.

"Dude, if I was going to kiss you, I would have just done it. Your aftershave was tempting enough…" he replied, much to my surprise, only he somewhat muttered the last bit. In fact, I had to question myself a few times to make sure I heard him correctly. I would have lingered in the thought that he wanted to kiss me a little longer, but I had to respond before too much time passed.

"I'm surprised you didn't, you were so drunk," was the first thing that came to mind. As much as I wanted to ask it, I wouldn't have wanted to know the answer if I had asked, "why didn't you?"

"Me too. I'm sure if I had just a little more to drink, it would have turned into Gay Fest '07." Another shocking response. I didn't even know what to think of it. Did he mean if he was just a little drunker, he knows he would have kissed me, or he's assuming it's what he would do if he were drunker? I wanted to know so badly, but I couldn't risk asking it.

"Dude, weak." Well, what else was I supposed to say? He wasn't supposed to know I would have _wanted_ that to happen. Not yet, anyway. He laughed.

"Oh, you know you would have liked it," he said in a somewhat seductive voice. I swear to god, I almost had a heart attack when he said that. I thought he knew something. I had to put on a quick cover, and make it sound like I wasn't shaken up.

"If I knew I would have liked it, I would have made the first move." I still had a shaky voice, but I don't think he noticed.

"Then why didn't you?" I could tell by the way he said that that he was smiling. I couldn't help but smile myself. He was flirting with me again, and he was sober.

"Because, dude, I'm not into guys." It wasn't a lie, because I wasn't. I was just into him. I stopped smiling as soon as I said this though, because I realized I just opened up a door to this conversation that could lead to me spilling the beans. I began to panic.

Lucky for me, that made him remember he hadn't turned in his application for the job at Harbucks he wanted so badly. As he began talking about that, I thanked Jesus for the sudden change in conversation. Shortly afterwards though, we decided it was late enough, and went to sleep.

Though I must admit, despite the very close call I had, I slept with a huge grin on my face that night. I had managed to get Stan to flirt with me again, just like at the party, and without the alcohol. It was almost too perfect. I let myself jump to conclusions when I thought there was a chance he could have feelings for me, too. I didn't want to lose the feeling of euphoria I had.

Of course, this meant there was only one thing to do: continue with my experiment. I began to flirt with him whenever we were together, making it as seemingly unnoticeable as possible (and even less so when we were hanging out with Kenny and Cartman, which, fortunately, wasn't as often as the time we spent alone). It was only little things, really, like small comments, or a playful shove, all of which he positively responded to. I was a little surprised when he even flirted back in public. Fortunately, nobody caught on, that I could tell.

I was on Cloud Nine for about three weeks straight, since Stan and I had spent nearly every day together at the end of June and beginning of July, and our closeness continued to grow. There were no doubts in my feelings then. At one point, I had jokingly gotten mad at him for making me go to Clyde's party on the assumption that we wouldn't see each other often, because he never did get that job.

The Friday after July 4th, though, he blew off our plans to go fishing at Stark's Pond to hang out with Wendy. (He insisted it wasn't a date, but they went to dinner and a movie. Sound like a date? Thought so.) He felt bad for doing so, and I'll admit I was jealous, but I told him he had barely seen her all summer, so it was fine. I wound up going fishing with Kenny that day instead.

However, if Stan ditching me wasn't upsetting enough, the conversation Kenny and I had that afternoon was.

Everything we talked about leading up to said conversation was completely normal. We talked about stupid shit, nothing in particular, as he drank the beer he brought along. I didn't have any of it, told him my mom would smell it on my breath the moment I opened my mouth. But a few hours and a few beers (on his part) later, our conversation shifted to have somewhat of a topic.

"I know I wasn't your first choice, but thanks for inviting me along anyways," Kenny said, and I smiled.

"When you put it that way, it makes me feel bad," I told him. "You're welcome, though." He let a few moments of silence pass before he spoke again.

"So I take it you haven't told him how you feel yet, have you?" he asked nonchalantly, and I almost choked on my own saliva.

"Wh-what??"

"Oh come on, Kyle, don't play dumb. You think I didn't notice the boner you have for Stan?" He had the slyest grin on his face. I winced at his wording, and blushed.

"You asshole, I do _not_ have a boner," I corrected him.

I hate how insightful Kenny can be at times.

"So you admit it," he said, that sly smile growing on his face. I rolled my eyes.

"No sense denying it, since you'll do just about anything to pry the truth out of me, which would make me look like a fool in the end."

"Only if I had to prove it to someone else." I looked up at him with frightful eyes, and he laughed. "Lucky for you, I don't. I'm the only one who has noticed."

"Then you won't tell anyone?" I asked him, relieved.

"I won't tell."

"Not even Stan?"

"Of course I won't tell Stan."

"_Or_ Cartman?" Now he rolled his eyes.

"Why would I tell that fat fuck anything?" I shrugged, and he laughed again. "Like I said, I won't tell anyone."

I sighed and reeled in my line. "Are you ashamed to have a fag for a friend?" I asked him. He shook his head and swallowed his beer.

"You know I don't care about that shit. And you're not a fag, Kyle. You just turned for one guy. And he's your best friend, so I guess it makes sense. I mean…you still think girls are hot, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then you aren't a fag. Just in this one instance." He waited a few moments again before speaking. "Don't persue him, Kyle."

"What? Why?" My heart sunk. I looked at him, and he was looking across the pond.

"Because I'm pretty sure he doesn't feel the same way."

"How do you know?"

"He did ditch you today for Wendy, didn't he?"

"So he wanted to hang out with someone else today, big deal. It's pretty understandable, since we've spent like, three whole weeks together. I think you're wrong," I told him, and he turned to look at me, that smug smile back on his face.

"How do _you_ know?"

"Because every time I flirt with him, he flirts back," I told him matter-of-factly. He gave me a 'really?' look, and I frowned. "And it's been some pretty obvious flirting sometimes." Kenny laughed as he took another drink of beer.

"Okay, clearly I may be wrong. But really, are you going to tell him at some point?"

"At some point," I echoed.

"Good luck with that."

The rest of our time fishing was a little awkward, and I went home questioning myself. What if Kenny was right and Stan didn't feel the same way? I asked myself that all night, as I played out scenarios in my head—I think I'm right, I tell Stan how I feel, but instead of his undying love in return, our friendship ends on a very awkward and humiliating note. I decided I would stop flirting with Stan, in fear that would actually happen. I didn't sleep well that night.

However, all that changed the very next morning. Stan called and suggested we go fishing, since he bailed on me the day before. I told him I already went without him, and he sounded a bit bummed. I couldn't help but grin to myself. Score one for Kyle Broflovski! Then I suggested we go play laser tag, and I heard him perk up.

It was probably the best day we spent together the entire summer.

We ended up hanging out at the laser tag place all day, since they had some sort of "pay for one game, play 12 more free" (or something along those lines) deal going on. Stan insisted on paying for both of us to make up for bailing on our fishing plans, and I let him. Saved me 8 bucks. After a few games of free-for-all, once all the younger kids left, which was after nine o'clock or something, we played a few rounds with some guys around our age in teams of two. Obviously, Stan and I were on the same team.

The third game of those games is when things got exciting. There were about four or five teams, so the field had a lot of hiding room. Because of this, there were many opportunities for us to be ambushed, so I suggested we stick together. Surprisingly, Stan had agreed. He usually likes to split up so we can get more enemies, or be the ones doing the hiding and ambushing.

We were sneaking around on the upper level of the field, and since I was the leader that round, I was the one looking out for enemies, and Stan was covering me from behind. (I would have had him up with me, but I couldn't risk it—if one of us got hit one more time, our team would lose again.) I was so completely focused on everything in front of me, I didn't hear the halt of Stan's feet.

"Stan, how's it looking back there?" I whispered loud enough for him to hear me. I stopped when I didn't get a response. "Stan, did you hear me? Sta—"

Before I could even finish my sentence, a hand swiftly covered my mouth, preventing me from screaming, and pulled me backwards. I was about to fight back, until I was face to face with my attacker—it was Stan. He was silently telling me to shush. I nodded, and examined my new surroundings.

We were in one of those little nooks in the field used for ambushing. I almost got angry at him, because I assumed this was his way of taking the lead and wanting to ambush someone, until I became more focused on the position we were in. He was backed as far into the corner as possible, and I was facing him, his arm wrapped around my waist and holding me close. I had to do everything in my power to keep my heart from racing, or he would surely feel it. The fact that the nook was barely big enough for both of us certainly didn't help matters.

He finally uncovered my mouth, but he didn't move his arm from around my waist. Maybe he was afraid I'd make a run for it? Either way, I'm glad it was really dark, because I would have never been able to hide the blush that took over my cheeks.

"What the hell are we doing?" I whispered, and he shushed me again, then pointed downwards. Through the grated floor, I could see what he was pointing at—another team was below us. With as much noise as I was making walking around, they definitely would have seen us. For the game's sake, I was pretty glad I was practically on Stan.

"They've been lurking down there for quite a bit," he mouthed to me. I cocked an eyebrow.

"And why aren't we going after them ourselves?" I mouthed back. He leaned over slightly, and whispered into my ear.

"Just following captain's orders," he said, almost seductively. It sent a chill down my back, and I was completely lost for words. He leaned back against the wall, and I felt so embarrassed for just standing there with my mouth gaping open in shock.

I wanted to kiss him _so_ badly. It took every inch of self control I have to keep me from doing so. What was even worse was the look he was giving me, almost as if he wanted me to kiss him. But I couldn't, I didn't want to risk anything. I had to keep repeating what Kenny told me in my head to prevent myself from going against my better judgment. When I had myself mostly under control, I tried to change the subject.

"Dude, move your gun. It's poking me in the stomach," I told him as quietly as I could manage. I didn't care about being heard by another team at the moment to consider my volume. I was too busy trying not to jump the guy in front of me.

Almost angrily, Stan raised his free hand (which meant it had left my waist) to put his finger to his lips, indicating me to shut the fuck up. I rolled my eyes and began pushing the gun away myself, but he was resisting.

"I'll shut up when you move your fucking gun!" I said a little louder.

Just to spite me, he intentionally jabbed me in the stomach with his gun, causing me to lurch forward. This ended with us knocking our foreheads together, yelping in pain, and beeping. The beeping, however, was coming from our vests, and we could only assume that we made enough noise to let another team know our position and shoot us. But before either of us could accuse the other for making too much noise, I looked down and noticed that _my _gun was pointing towards the target on his chest. I must have accidentally pulled the trigger when we hit our heads together. Oops.

"Aw-AWW! Way to go, Kyle!" he said out loud, obviously not afraid of being seen anymore. He shoved me off of him.

"Well, maybe if you weren't acting like such a douche and moved your gun, we'd still be in the game!" I retaliated, and shoved him back.

"It was _your_ gun that shot _me_!"

"Because you jabbed me in the stomach!"

We argued a bit longer as we walked off the field to wait for the round to be over, but it was all in good humor. We were both laughing by the time we got to the sidelines. It was several minutes before the round was over, and when the next one started, Stan grabbed my hand and started leading me through the field at a run.

"What the hell, dude?" I called to him above the loud music. I couldn't not blush when his grip tightened on my hand.

"I'm the leader this time," he explained, not turning around. "And I say we go hide in the highest corner so we can sit there and snipe some bitches."

Okay, it was a good plan and all, but he didn't have to hold my hand. Not that I minded, of course. I couldn't help but laugh to myself. Kenny was so wrong, he had no idea.

Unfortunately, nothing interesting really happened the rest of the game. Stan's plan didn't go over as he thought, since another team had the same idea, and shot us on arrival. We played a few games after that, I being the leader, since Stan clearly wasn't very good at it. The only game we won was the last, and our reward was a coupon that allowed us one free game if used by August 14th. (We didn't end up using it though. I gave it to Ike.)

The next few weeks went by about as quickly as the last. Nothing really happened worth mentioning, except that Stan went on a few more "non-dates" with Wendy. Again, I was jealous, but it's not like he was mine to keep on a leash. Besides, I was very confident he had feelings for me in return.

I was so naïve.

The day after one of his non-dates, Stan didn't call or come by to hang out, so I went to hang out with Kenny instead. I felt bad for continuously making him my fall-back guy, but it's not like that was the only times I saw him. Stan and I still hung out with Kenny and Cartman a great deal over summer, just like normal, only not as much as we had been spending alone together. Anyway, I didn't feel as bad this time, because as I was on my way to his house, Kenny called me on my cell phone. He told me to come over, and I informed him that I was already on my way. I remember the urgency in his voice almost scared me, and I immediately wondered afterwards if he had died again or something.

When I got there, I didn't even get the chance to get out of my car (I was driving by then). He had been waiting for me in front of his house, and got in my passenger seat when I parked. When I questioned his actions, he told me to shut up and listen.

"Dude, I'm sorry in advance, but I couldn't help it," he began, and I gave him a confused glare.

"What the hell did you do now?" I asked.

Kenny liked to get into trouble and pull pranks, mostly for kicks. If he wasn't such a smooth talker, and Officer Barbrady wasn't such a complete moron, he'd probably have some sort of felony record. But from the look in his eyes and the way he was biting his lip, I had a feeling it had nothing to do with pranks. He would have been laughing.

"You won't be mad?"

"_What _did you do?"

"I followed Stan and Wendy to Shakey's last night…" he told me, his tone sincere. I shrugged and sighed, a little relieved it was only that. He had me thinking he had killed somebody.

"Yeah, so? I already knew they went out last night. You make it sound like he's cheating on me or something. We aren't even dating, dude." I was going to add 'yet' to the end of that, but I didn't want to jinx it.

"Yeah, well…I'm pretty sure I was right all along when I said he doesn't feel the same way…" I cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Why do you say that?" He hesitated for a moment before he spoke. Now that we were talking about a subject that concerned me, and Kenny was being so suspenseful about it, my heart was racing.

"I…I saw her kiss him…"

My heart sunk, and I was silent for a few moments. I wondered why Kenny had to continuously be the one to bring me down and smash any hope I had of being with Stan. I must've spaced out a bit, because I felt his hand on my shoulder.

"Kyle? You okay, man?" he asked, but I didn't look at him. A thought suddenly struck me.

"Wait, so…You said_ she _kissed _him_," I asked, and he nodded. "Where did she kiss him?"

"Um…on the cheek." I grinned.

"Then it wasn't his idea. There's still hope for me yet! Unless…He didn't kiss her back, did he?"

"Well, no—"

"Perfect! I have to go tell him now, before she pulls anything else! Get out, Kenny." He gave me a confused look, and didn't budge.

"Dude, no. You're about to make a huge mistake," he warned, but I wasn't even thinking by this point.

"Then let me make it! This mistake could very well be the best thing to ever happen to me!" I started to put the keys in the ignition, but he grabbed them from me.

"Or it could be the worst thing. You could lose your best friend, Kyle. Your _best friend_."

I considered this for about five seconds, when I realized I didn't want to lose my opportunity. I quickly leaned over and snatched my keys back from his hand, put them in the ignition, and started the car.

"It's a chance I'm willing to take. This feeling I have isn't going to go away, and I need to let him know before it's too late."

I felt kind of bad for acting so rude when he was so clearly concerned about my friendship with Stan. He looked like he wanted to say something, but I think he realized there was no changing my mind. He opened the door and got out of the car, turning to me before he closed it.

"You know where to find me when this all blows up in your face." With that, he closed the car door, and I watched him go inside his house. His parting words stung, but I didn't dwell on them for very long. I sighed, and drove to Stan's house.

Rather than thinking about Kenny's advice on my way there, I thought of how I'd tell Stan. It wasn't going to be easy, that was certain. My heart was racing, and it skipped a beat when his house came into view. I did a few breathing exercises, parked, and made my way to his door. Everything started to feel surreal, and my hands went numb when I knocked.

Stan answered the door, and for a second I thought we had switched places or something, because I felt the need to vomit. Luckily I was able to keep it together, and told him I needed to talk to him. I'm not quite sure how it happened, but we were soon in my car, driving to what eventually became Stark's Pond. I was too busy freaking out internally to wonder why we were here, of all places, and how exactly I got us there safely in my condition. It was a Christmas miracle.

I do remember Stan talking about something in the car, because the sound of his voice was in my head as we drove, but I wasn't listening. And when I parked, he was still talking, and I still wasn't listening. In fact, I was finally thinking about Kenny's advice. The look on his face as he got out of the car…He was concerned.

"Kyle?" The sound of my name brought me back to reality, and I looked over at Stan. "You said you had something to tell me."

Rather than answer him, I turned to look out the windshield at the pond. I did take him there to tell him how I felt, but every nerve in my body was freaking out. Jesus, Kenny was right. Maybe not about whether or not Stan had feelings in return, but telling him wasn't worth the risk of losing him. I couldn't tell him…A rush of frantic thoughts clouded my mind at this point, until Stan interrupted them.

"Kyle!" He sounded a little irritated, and a little concerned. I turned to him again.

"Yeah, uh…" Now I had to think of a cover to tell him…Anything… "I know what college I'm applying to." Jesus Christ, I still can't believe I said that, of everything I could have thought up. It was such a touchy subject with us…

"You…You do?" He sounded hurt. He must've been assuming that it was someplace really far away, since I had us out here and all. I don't blame him, though. I would have thought the same thing. I gave him a small nod, and shrugged.

"Well, sorta…" He was looking at his feet, and I could tell he was upset. But I had dragged him out here to tell him something very important, and since I wouldn't be telling him the real thing, I had to think of something equally concerning. I felt so bad for lying to him…

"Where at?" He had put me on the spot with that one. I couldn't just say 'I dunno', because it would make absolutely no sense. I had to think of something fast.

"Harvard." I wanted so badly to smash my face into the steering wheel at that point. Of all places, why did I say Harvard?

"H-Harvard? I thought you said you don't want to go there?"

"I don't. My parents are making me apply, and if I get accepted I have to go, or they won't pay for my college…"

"Well, shit! You may as well already be accepted!" I watched him begin to have a small meltdown, and started to get a little choked up. I didn't mean to mess with his head _that _much…I had to undo some of the damage.

"Dude, chill. I'll just fuck with my application enough so they don't accept me," I reassured him, and he began to calm down. "You know I don't want to go there."

"Well…where _do_ you want to go?"

"Wherever you're going," I told him, and smiled. God, it was probably the corniest moment of my life. But I swear I saw him blushing. He sighed and sat back in his seat.

"Fuck, dude. Don't do that to me."

"Do what?"

"Scare me like that! For a second, I thought you had forgotten everything you said about going to school in Denver! And you didn't have to make it sound like you _wanted_ to go to Harvard, Jesus Christ…"

I had to laugh. I did wind up making it way more dramatic than was necessary. And even if it wasn't what I wanted to tell him, it was still a very difficult moment, and probably one we would have had to face later on anyways, since my parents really are making me do that. (Not to Harvard, but to one of those other fancy schools. And I really do intend on fucking with my application.) The funniest part about it was that it wasn't even that big of a deal. He must've found it all incredibly ridiculous, since I drove him out to the pond and everything.

After all that, I drove Stan home, and went home myself. I had to call Kenny to tell him I didn't go through with it, so he didn't go and talk to Stan about it or something. He was very relieved. I must admit, I was, too. I couldn't help but feel like all of it would have blown up in my face somehow, had I actually told him.

Before I knew it, the last few weeks before school started had slipped by. Stan and I saw each other relatively less, when we weren't with Cartman and Kenny. I didn't mind as much, though. I was still recovering from almost telling him how I felt.

Which would bring things back up to speed with where I am now, sitting in Stan's passenger seat on the way to school, on a drive that has probably been the longest and most nerve-wracking car ride ever. The two of us sit in silence waiting for the other to speak first, and I decide to break the silence.

"Where's your schedule? I wanna see if we have any classes together." I begin rummaging around his things before he even gives me permission.

"It's in the front pocket of my backpack…No no, the other one. Yeah."

I find his schedule, and pull mine out of my back pocket. I carefully compare them, and fold mine up in frustration when I finish.

"God damn it, we never have anything together," I swear, and shove my schedule back in my pocket, then replace his in his backpack.

"Really? I thought you said you have Daniels for Econ?"

"I do, but we have him separate periods." I lean back in my seat, disappointed, and drum my fingers on the little compartment-thing in between our seats. "Didn't you have something to tell me?"

"Yeah," he says as he pulls into the school parking lot. I see people still loitering around outside the building. Good, we aren't late, like I thought we'd be.

He parks the car in the parking lot designated for students, in one of the last available slots. Unfortunately, it's in the very back of the lot, so we're going to have a lot farther to walk. Ugh. I hear him turn off the ignition, but neither of us moves. I know he drove me to school today because whatever he has to tell me needs to be said in the privacy of his car. We sit in silence for a few moments before he speaks.

"Um, I don't really know how to tell you this…" he begins, and I turn to look at him.

What the hell could he possibly have to tell me that he'd start off like that? Wait a second…Could he be telling me what I've been wanting to tell him? Oh shit, I can't be thinking this. Now my hopes are up! Weak!

I watch him fiddle with his fingers, as I try to keep my composure the same. Oh Jesus, I can't help but wonder if he's really going to confess his undying love. But he's not saying anything…Is he really trying to find the words to tell me what he wants to tell me, or is he just stalling? I can't take it anymore.

"Just say it already, we don't have all day." My voice sounds funny and cracked, and a little nervous. I hope he didn't pick up on that.

"You promise you won't get mad?" Get mad? What the hell?

"Why would I get mad?"

"Because you've advised me several times in the past not to do…what I did…" Jesus Christ, I want to punch him out for pussyfooting around!

"What did you do?" I ask him, frustration in my voice. I look at him, and I watch him swallow. I'm sure whatever it is he did can't be _that _bad. What did he do, join another Scientology cult again?

"I'm dating Wendy again."

Oh, okay, that's not that bad. At least he didn't like, burn down the mayor's office or somethi—

Wait,_ what_??


	2. August 20

Misery Business 

Written by: Spirit-the-Titan and Jupiter52987

Fandom: South Park

Pairings: Stan/Wendy, eventual Stan/Kyle

Chapter 1: August 

How I even got myself to Homeroom, I don't even know, but suddenly I'm sitting in a random desk in the front row of my classroom. Somehow my feet must have brought me here, even though my brain was locked on what could possibly be the biggest shock of my life to date.

_I'm dating Wendy again._ The words echo through my thoughts in a taunting manner as I re-live whatjust happened outside in front of Stan's truck. 

  
"...Oh Jesus, I didn't think you were _that_ against us getting back together! But come on, at least say something!"

Apparently I had been standing there, staring straight forward, completely shell-shocked by what Stan had just told me for quite some time. I blinked myself back into reality, connecting my glance with his again. Still not being able to form words, I smiled weakly, to give him at least some reassurance.

"No Stan...that's great." I pause, looking to my feet, unable to really hide my disappointment. "I'm happy for you." 

  
"Bullshit you are. Just look at how you're reacting!" He exclaimed.Out of all the times of me being able to hide my emotions, this seems to be the one time I fail miserably, the only time it actually matters. I'm about to open my mouth to say something when the final bell for class sounds.

"...I need to get to class." I brush by a slightly peeved Stan as I walk as quickly as I can without breaking into a jog. I hear him call out to me, mentioning something about meeting him after school to give me a ride home, but I choose to ignore him as I pick up more speed. The fact that I've had the same homeroom class for the entirety of my high school career helped get me to here without much thought on finding my classroom apart from the others.

I look up at the clock, realizing I still had fifty-five minutes left of this period. Fifty-five minutes to sit here and mull over the disaster that just happened. I almost wish that I had a class in which I'd have to pay attention in, to keep myself from thinking of the idea of Stan and Wendy back together. God, why did that have to be Stan's news; why her? After all these years and after all the ridiculous problems they've had in their off and on relationship, how could they manage to get back together? It's a question that I don't even really want to know the answer to, but I keep finding myself stumbling upon.

Just as I find myself falling deeper into my thoughts, I'm brought back out again. 

"Thinking dirty thoughts about your _boyfriend_ at school is totally sick."

Cartman invites himself to plop into the desk next to mine, grinning when he notices my disgust. Out of all the people to have in my homeroom class with me, it_ had _to be Cartman. What did I do to deserve this?

"Not today, Cartman. Fuck off," I say as I turn my attention away from him again, but he wont let up that easily.

"Oh Christ, is it that time of the month again? I thought that wasn't for another week or so! I'll have to change my calendar of when I need to stay away from moody Jew." Much to my surprise, he actually whips out his planner and starts writing in it.

"If you don't want to be around me then why are you here?" I grumble, "And I'm not on my period, Cartman, because I'm male." His lame jokes are always the same, and hearing them over and over again gets to be somewhat of habit when I respond with the same come-backs as always.

"What!" he exclaims loud enough for the whole class to briefly look in our direction, "Don't keep living this lie, Kyle. You need to stop telling yourself that you're male, and embrace your inner goddess." 

"God damn it, Cartman! Don't test me! I swear, today is not the day!" I hear my voice go up an octave in hysterics, my face a mere two inches away from his, my eyes glaring, asking for him to try me.

He just stares at me for a second with a completely straight look before he finally turns himself away from me, "You really are PMSing," he mumbles intentionally loud enough for me to hear, pulling out his mp3 player and putting the earphones in his ears, "Whateva, bitch."

After hearing his last comment, I have to calm myself into not losing my temper again. I have more important things to PMS about.  
...God damn it, now he's got me saying it. 

Sighing for the twentieth time this morning, I bring my current worries back to mind. I should just relinquish any thoughts of trying to get together with Stan; it's just not going to happen. Especially after that not-so-pleasant knock into reality about what was really going on between him and Wendy all summer long. Kenny was right after all, damn it! I'm almost embarrassed to admit that he had it right all along, even though he's not here to give me that all-knowing smirk of his to rub it in. How he saw it and how I didn't, I don't know. It must have been my pining over my best friend that kept my better knowledge clouded from the obvious truth. 

I let my head fall against the desk in front of me, not caring how ridiculous I might look in doing so, before repeatedly banging it against the table, as if that will help my problems. I hear Cartman's snickers from beside me, and decide to "pull a Craig" and flip him the bird without removing my head from its place on the table. 

With my head raised back up, my chin resting in my palm in a melancholy way, I watch as my peers move around the classroom talking amongst themselves, probably their biggest worries being that it was the start of a new school year. Nothing compared to the heartbreak that I had encountered just this morning. My mind wanders to thoughts of summer, of Stan and me hanging together nearly every day. Brief scenes of laser tag flash by my thoughts.

_"__Just following captain's orders." _The tone of his voice, the way his whispered breath tickled my ear as he pressed up against me. The way he made me feel as though we were all alone, lost in our own universe together...remembering it all brought a tear to my eyes. I fought them back, wiping whatever evidence of them away with my sleeve. In doing so, I got a brief scent of cologne I had gotten to know after all these years to be Stan's, which made me realize what shirt I was wearing.

_"I have nothing new to wear to the first day of school." I grumbled into a pillow on Stan's bed. _

_  
"Why the hell not? Your parents being stingy this year or something?" He was tossing a baseball in the air casually, to pass his boredom._

"Something like that..." I trail off. I'm not even truly sure of why my mom wasn't buying me new clothes to start the year off. I knew it had nothing to do with me getting a job, as it was established back when I started high school that I shouldn't distract my studies with a job until at least after high school or till mid-college, where I'd get an internship of some sort. I never really found a problem with that, because it allowed me to spend more time with my friends, more importantly Stan, whenever I got the chance. "I guess it's not that important to have something new, I just want to look my best for the first day of my last year of hell--s'cuse me, high school." I sighed. I received a quick chuckle from Stan. 

_"I don't know why you're fussing over it. You look great no matter what you're wearing." I felt my cheeks flush at his not so subtle flirtatious comment. Before I could respond, he jumped from his chair to walk over to his dresser, immediately fumbling though the top drawer._

"What are you doing?" I sat up in attempt to see what he's looking for.

"Hold on...I'm looking for it--ah ha!" He pulled a shirt out, and held it in front of me. It was a simple, casual, button down top in a forest green color. "I bought this awhile ago for myself after seeing it in the store window this summer, because it reminded me of you..." He mumbled the last part, almost ashamed of having said it. "Any rate, turns out after wearing it once, it looked pretty crummy on me. Clashes with my eyes? I don't know, ask my mom, she's the one that told me."

I looked at Stan questioningly, trying to put the mention of the shirt reminding him of me aside. "...It's a nice shirt?" I finally get out.

"I want you to have it!_ I think it'd look good on you. 'Sides, it would be the solution to your problem." He lightly balled up said shirt and tossed it in my direction, it landing on my head and draping over my eyes. __Stan laughed at my reaction to a shirt being thrown at my face. __  
_

I looked down at the sleeve I had been wiping my eyes on. I had worn it not only because Stan had given it to me for the very reason of wearing it on the first day, but also because I thought that it would be the proper attire for what I thought was going to be admitted to me today. Psh, so much for that, I suppose. 

I still don't understand it. All summer long, Stan had made it a habit to send compliments my way, letting our hands linger longer than they normally should have, and basically flirting to the point of it almost being obnoxious, and yet he's now with Wendy. How could someone send that many signs of wanting to be with someone, then turn in the opposite direction to be with a completely different person? A slut, nonetheless. 

I'm sorry, that's probably not the kindest thing of me to be thinking, but it's true. Because of Wendy hanging out with Bebe Stevens, the biggest whore in the school, throughout the years has led people to believe that Wendy might be a whore herself. I never really believed it until she decided to take the only guy I've ever wanted away from me. The justice in that is so disgustingly non-existent that it makes me want to puke.

But Stan's got to have at least _some_ sort of feelings for me. I mean, beyond friendship. There's no way a straight guy could get that..."friendly" with another guy, unless it was a joke (I know Stan well enough to know that he would never do something like that though). No, he's got feelings for me, something just got in the way. Rather, some_one_. 

My ears pick up on a falsetto voice singing next to me. "Don't stop believing, hold onto that feeeeeling!" I look over to Cartman, singing along with his music; it's not that he wasn't aware that he could be heard, it was more like he didn't care that he was undoubtedly annoying everyone around him. But for some reason, I heard past the ridiculous singing, and listened to the lyrics he was spitting out. For once in my life, I was actually listening to Eric Cartman, and the message he was saying. 

It's just now that I realize that this is not over, but far from it. Stan is still within my reach, with how rocky his and Wendy's relationship is (and how relentless I am), and I know that I can get him to show his true feelings towards me. A smile spreads itself onto my lips as I loose control of the sudden hope I have gained, and I jump from my seat to grab Cartman into a bone-crushing hug. 

"Aye! What the hell! Get the fuck off me! You'll spread your faggotry all over me!" He probably had a near homicidal expression on his face right now, but I chose to ignore that for the time being, finishing up the hug I was spontaneously giving him. Pulling back, I confirmed my prediction was correct as the look on Cartman's face was everything but happy. He suddenly goes back to what he was previously doing, which I noticed was a list of "100 ways to kill the Jew" (complete with stick figure diagrams). He was too flustered to actually get himself to ask what the hell got into me. 

I was much to inspired to actually give a care. I had a new plan, thanks to Cartman—no, thanks to the words of Journey. All I have to do is wait, and keep believing. 

**--**

After my slightly exhilarating homeroom period, the reality came back to hit me during my other periods before lunch. I still have the problem that is dealing with the idea of Stan and Wendy being a couple. Even if all I have to do is wait it out, I still need a plan to break the two of them apart, because_ just _sitting and waiting will get me no where. 

I'm hesitant on seeing Stan just yet; I don't want to act when I don't at least have some sort of a plan devised, in fear I might ruin even the slightest bit of my goal, not to mention I don't know how he'll react to my shenanigans from this morning. 

Mr. Daniels, my Economy teacher, is finishing up his babble of what to expect for this class when the lunch bell rings. Oh shit, I'm not ready yet! All I've got so far is that I'm somehow going to get Stan to realize his mistake in taking Wendy back, which, unfortunately is where I've been all morning. Maybe I could try to avoid him for the entire lunch period, even if he'd suspect something is wrong by me doing so. 

I gather my supplies together and head for the door, letting other students pass me. I'm in no rush to get out. Just then, I see a very familiar head full of black hair pop into the classroom, immediately spotting me. God damn it.

"Jesus, you take a long time to get outta the classroom," Stan says, acting as if I didn't leave him out in the parking lot this morning in a flurry of emotions. 

He was waiting for me to get out of class? Maybe things aren't going to change as drastically as I thought. Stan shows he's a bit wary through his wavering smile. I can't help but feel the need to make him lighten his spirits a bit. As much as I'm not happy about his decision, it pains me to see him worried like that. Putting aside my own problems, I let the corners of my mouth turn up into an easy smile. 

"Don't worry, it's not like I was going to ditch you."

I watch as Stan's eyebrows furrow slightly, "I wasn't thinking you were going to."

"Dude, yeah you were. I can read you like a book."

"You would be able to, wouldn't you?" He let his worry fade, and replaced it with a smirk.

And just like that, everything that had been awkward this morning was resolved. We've never really been able to stay in an off mood with each other for too long.

"I kinda have to know how to read your emotions, what with how easy they trip up and all."

"Ouch, be easy with my fragile heart!" He grabs at his chest in a semi-dramatic fashion. 

We both laugh, while I feel Stan sling an arm around my shoulders, and we head towards the lunch room. I feel my face flush up with joy as he does so. Not as if we don't do this often (and it's a pretty common thing for guys to do), but it still warms me to know we're this close. 

"So you were waiting for me outside my classroom? How romantic," I coo.

"Oh come off it," I get shoved by Stan, "I'd just had that class a period before so I already knew where you were. Besides, my last period is two rooms down from yours, so I'd thought it'd be _kind_ to wait for my SBF." 

I can't lie, I wasn't just a little bit saddened by the fact that he completely dismissed my flirt, but the fact that he waited for me makes up for it. 

"Oh, by the way," Stan starts looking at me from the corner of his eye, I nod for him to continue, "what the hell did you do to Cartman in homeroom? He was muttering something about 'psychotic Jews' or something. I figured it had something to do with you, considering."

I raise my eyebrows in confusion before remembering what I had done just three hours ago. I immediately started laughing. Had I really freaked Cartman out that much?

"I gave him a hug is all."

"Dude, you gave him a hug? That would explain him telling me to keep you off of him, because he was still trying to wipe all the excess gay off of himself." We're both laughing even more by now, as we approach the lunchroom entrance. "Dare I ask why you hugged him? You're not gay for Cartman, _are you_?" 

"Sweet Jesus, no! Are you kidding me!" I shudder at the thought, "It was just a ploy to get back at him for all his jokes this morning. Looks like it worked, am I ri--"

It doesn't take long for our bonding to end as I'm interrupted by the high pitched voice of the girl I have recently declared my rival, right as we enter the cafeteria. "Stan!"

Stan jumps at hearing his name and releases me from his loose hold. He spins around to greet Wendy, with a completely different smile upon his lips then what he gave me earlier. I feel a slight ping of jealousy rush through me as they both meet each other half way and pull one another into an embrace. 

One thing I'm glad of is Stan's feelings about public displays of affection. I've noticed after countless times of them getting back together that Stan shows a little bit of his shyness for the first couple of weeks or so, keeping the both of them from doing not much more then engaging in quick hugs. Yet I'm still not too pleased to see that hug last more than a couple of seconds, and with each passing second I feel myself get increasingly ticked off. 

"What do you know, the two hippies got back together again." 

I jump slightly at the sound of Cartman's voice from behind me, before scowling at him. I see a flash of satisfaction on his features at being able to surprise me so easily. Apparently he rid all of his prior anger for me from before. Naturally he's gotten his tray of food already (sometime during our freshman year he successfully conned the lunch ladies into letting him get his lunch before anyone else. No one dared to ask what he did to accomplish this), and he sticks a potato wedge in his mouth as he watches the "hippies" chat away like the happy couple they are. Blech. 

"What the fuck ever, it's not like they're going to last," I say slightly agitated, crossing my arms into a tight knot across my chest. If it weren't for Wendy's arrival, I would be talking with Stan right now instead of the fat lard beside me who is currently chewing with his mouth open, which he does in an unnecessarily loud way, since he found out it bugs the heck out of me. 

"Psh, those two douches are meant to be together, demented relationship and all--AYE!" Cartman nearly drops his tray as he rubs the back of his head where Kenny, who just joined us, had hit him. "What was that for, you dill-hole!"

Kenny simply ignores him as he walks up beside me, hands now inside his pant's front pockets in a casual manner. "'Sup?" He gives me a nod. "You getting lunch today?"

I really admire the fact that when Kenny knows something is bugging me, he'll keep away from the topic, unless he truly feels the need to speak his mind. In this case, his change in topic is his subtle request of feeding him. I let myself turn from staring at Stan and Wendy, who are now seated at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria, to give Kenny a friendly eye roll. 

"Yeah, I'll feed you. Just don't splurge like you did last time I bought you lunch." 

"But you always spend that much on Stan, honey-bunch. I'm starting to suspect that you're cheating on me," he says, sniffling a fake cry, which earns him an elbow to the ribs.

"You can get a burger and a soda. That's it. I hardly have enough money as it is right now. And I swear to god, Cartman, if you make a Jew quip about me being protective of my money, so help me I will kill you," I say, interrupting Cartman with a threat when I notice him open his mouth to spew whatever diss he had thought up.

"Well, looks like I don't have to, since you already beat me too it, Jew-boy." He chomps down on another potato. I roll my eyes at him. Yeah, that totally means you win the conversation, Cartman.

"As much fun as it is to be standing in the middle of the cafeteria..." Kenny brings to our attention that we are, in fact, still standing where we met up, and have yet to move. I'm actually amazed the fatass hasn't ditched us to sit down and finally tear into his meal fit for three. Sometimes I get the feeling he appreciates our company more then he lets on. 

  
Almost as if he read my mind, Cartman decides to head to the nearest table, "I'm gonna leave you two gay-wads before you do something I'd rather not see." 

  
We shrug our shoulders at the usual gay joke, before heading off to the line to get food. As we're standing there, I feel my eyes wander over to Stan. I still don't know what I'm going to do about this whole situation. I suppose it's better if I don't think about it too much, because if I do, I'm no better than Stan and his tendency to over-think things. I'm watching them talking to each other, not paying much attention to the food in front of them, but more on the conversation they're having. Every now and then Stan will throw his head back slightly to release a laugh, while Wendy holds a hand up to her mouth to giggle. I'm reminded of the way we usually talk like that, abandoning anything else not important, getting lost in world that is only ours.

...As overly sappy as that is, or if Stan even agrees, it's the way I feel when we're together. And the fact that Wendy is stealing those moments away from me is slowly killing me inside. 

"Yeah, I'll have three burgers, two fries and two sodas." Kenny's voice jerks me from my daze. "Hey, Kyle, you need to pay," he nudges me in the side a couple of times pestering me further, not sure if I heard him.

Absentmindedly, I hand the lunch lady a twenty before what I'm paying for registers in my mind. It's when I'm handed $3.50 back that I realize just how much Kenny just bought.

"You fucking bastard! What did I tell you about splurging?" I growl out what I'm sure the whole cafeteria can hear. Kenny's grinning ear to ear, unwrapping one of the burgers he just about stole from me.

"It's your own fault for spacing out and you know it. Thanks, by the way." 

  
"Yeah you better be thanking me..." I mumble to myself, not nearly as angry as I really sound. Kenny hands over my share of the food and we walk off, half purposely avoiding Cartman's table to go eat in the hallway. It's not like he doesn't have "friends" outside of our foursome; I'm sure he's wandered over to Token and his gang by now. 

The rest of lunch is spent with the both of us wandering the hallways of our soon-to-be old school, randomly bringing up different memories that came to us along the way. The way we go on about it would make you think we were graduating tomorrow and not in a year, but it won't be long before the whole lot of us will be worrying over finishing up projects and studying for finals which might make moments like these be pushed aside. I'm relieved that the mention of Stan and Wendy is never brought up. Not even an "I told you so" from Kenny. No, like I said before, Kenny knows how to take my mind off of the things that are getting me down, and even if he does like to boast every now and again, he does it in the only way that he knows how— with his trademark smirk. 

When it's time for class, we both walk in the opposite direction. "See ya in two periods," he holds his hand up without turning around as his lazy way of waving goodbye. Of course, with saying goodbye to Kenny, I also welcome back in the thoughts that I've been trying to shove away all day, much like shoving Cartman away when he's trying to rub something in your face. 

There's only a couple more periods to go till I have to meet up with Stan after school, and I'm way too anxious to actually pay much attention to what my new teachers are really saying. One thing I'm grateful for is the fact that it is the first day of school which is the obligatory "bore you to death with syllabus forms" day, so my spacing out really doesn't hurt me. What really scares me is if it's affecting me this much today, will it continue to help me not pay attention in class when things get more serious between the two to them? Not that I think that it will get to that point. Not that I'll _let_ it get to that point. But the fear still sets in as I watch the teacher's lips move as she's talking about the weight the final exam will take on our grade. 

During my final period of the day, I can feel my skin itching with anticipation. Luckily Kenny is in my last class with me, and has taken the seat next to mine. He keeps sending me reassuring glances my way, trying to help, and as much as I appreciate it, my nerves aren't settling much at all. Usually sixth period goes by the slowest of all, but today it flashed by before I got a second to think about it. 

"Will you just calm down already? It's fucking _Stan_. You're not walking to your execution," he finally finds it necessary to speak his mind as we're walking out the front doors of the school. Everyone else seems to be relieved that they get to go home, maybe save one: Butters, who's muttering to himself about his parents surely grounding him for something I don't give two shits about right now. 

"I can't help it, Kenny! We were fine right before lunch, and then Wendy came along and ruined all that. He dumped me aside like I meant nothing. What if he forgets about giving me a ride home? Or what if I say something that could potentially ruin the chances of us being together?" I ramble off the thoughts that were jumbled in my head all day.

"Whoa, wait, Kyle. You're not actually trying to still get together with that idiot friend of ours, are you?" I stay completely silent after his question, looking straight forward. Kenny shakes his head in disapproval. "I told you, you should just drop any idea of you two being together. He's too wrapped up in his own head to get any relationship of his to work, whether it be with you or Wendy. As much as you love the guy, you've gotta agree with me when I say that he's going to have to get over himself before he's relationship-worthy."

I do agree that Stan can be a little self-absorbed when it comes to his emotions, but that doesn't mean he's not "relationship-worthy". For the most part, I think that Kenny is trying any way possible to keep me from getting my heart broken from what he thinks will be a success-proof plan of mine to win Stan's affection. 

I look at him sternly, and he sighs. "It's your funeral." He turns towards the exit off the grounds to catch a bus to his part-time job. "Still...good luck," he gives a quick smile, slightly exhausted, probably from having to deal with me and my shit all day. I watch him walk off, sigh, and turn around to head for the student parking lot.

I guess this is it, then. I spot Stan's truck, and notice that he's no where near it yet. When I approach it, I decide that sitting down would be the best option. I open the back hatch and sit on the edge of the truck bed waiting for him to arrive. Finally after about five minutes or so, Stan makes his way over, with Wendy's hand entwined in his own. They don't seem to be talking, but are still enjoying each other's company, or so it would unfortunately seem. Stan raises his hand to wave to me, but lifts Wendy's hand in the process as well. Realizing that he lifted the wrong hand, the both of them laugh at the joke that I fail to see the humor in. Still, I let out a forced laugh to join them. 

"Oh Stanley, you can be so adorable sometimes," Wendy tells him in a sugary manner. I tilt my head at the mention of Stan's full name, the name I usually use to agitate him as a joke. Stan doesn't seem to be flustered over it at all, as if he's used to it or something. It all makes me want to vomit.

"Really Wends, I don't see why you think that." Ugh, and that nickname for her. How I despise it and what it represents.

"Well, I guess I'll talk to you later. Or rather, I'll see you later," she giggles in a flirtatious way.

"Yeah, I'll see you later." 

He reaches in to give her a hug, but instead she pulls him down in for lip lock. My eyes widen at the sight that is before me. Stan, my best friend, who hates to be called Stanley, who shies away from PDA, is now kissing his girlfriend of one day in broad daylight. If I weren't sitting down, I would have fallen over for sure. I feel a stabbing pain in my chest, and have to force myself to look away before it gets worse. 

  
I assume they've separated now as Wendy speaks, "Goodbye, Stan." God, I want to smack her as she glances my way, shooting me a look of spite before finally turning to walk off.

"Hey..." Stan says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"...Hey," is all I can muster up, still regaining myself from my shock. "We should go. I've got homework I've got to work on."

"Are you kidding me? It's the first day of school! How could you possibly have anything to do?" I give Stan a cold look that dares him to call me on my bluff. He takes a step backwards at sight of it, "Ok...let's go then."

The short car ride to my house is just as awkward as the one this morning, and I'm yet again frozen on what I should say, but this time more because of anger. A few times I can feel Stan take his eyes off the road to give me a quick look, trying to read just how angry I am, but I just keep staring blankly out the window. He even opens his mouth to say something, but quickly shuts it with a defeated sigh. 

And then we're in my driveway. Despite how much I want to get the hell out of sight, I still stay put as if I'm waiting for something. I realize that it's useless to just sit here, and pick my bag up off the truck floor and open the door. I slide out of the passenger side and am about to close the door when Stan interrupts mid-shut. 

"Kyle!" My eyes shoot directly to him and I find myself waiting yet again for the bastard to speak. "...I told you it'd look good on you." 

His eyes glance down at my shirt and then trail back up to meet my eyes again. With all the prior anger I felt, and all the bitter jealousy, I don't think any of it could add up to ruin what he had just said to me. I soften my expression and feel that damn smile tugging at my lips again. 

"Thanks," I let myself smile fully. "You've got good taste." And with that, I close the car door with a light slam. I see his face light up through the window before he waves and takes off. I wave at his tail, as he drives away in the direction that I realize is the one to Wendy's street. Frick. 


	3. August 24

Misery Business 

Written by: Spirit-the-Titan and Jupiter52987

Fandom: South Park

Pairings: Stan/Wendy, eventual Stan/Kyle

August 24

(POV: Kyle)

Finally, it's Friday. Thank god. I can't help but sit here in my econ class and think about what a hectic week it's been. Long, too. It probably wouldn't have been as bad if Stan and Wendy hadn't gotten back together. In fact, it probably would have been amazing. But because they've gotten back together, I don't even get to spend a whole lot of time with him. Instead, I am forced to spend my lunches hanging out with Kenny and Cartman, since he ditches us for her. Not that I mind hanging out with my other friends, it's just… not the same without Stan.

And it certainly doesn't help matters much by having to witness all of their PDA. Ever since that little stunt Wendy pulled on the first day of school, they've made a habit of hugging and kissing in the open. Though, it doesn't seem like Stan is very comfortable about it… Maybe I should say something to hi—

"Mr. Broflovski?"

"Huh? What?" That prick of a teacher, he always picks on me when I'm having a very important train of thought.

"Would you like to provide us with the answer?" he asks me. Great, now the whole class is looking at me. I scowl at them, and turn my attention to Mr. Daniels.

"Could you repeat the question please?" He gives me a look, and then looks up at the clock.

"Nevermind, we're out of time. I'll see you all next week. Do your homework! The chapter test is next Wednesday."

Sweet, no question for me. I look up at the clock as well to find the time, and I see that I have less than a minute to pack up my stuff. I dump it all carelessly into my bag, and stand up just as the bell rings. I crowd behind everyone filing out the door, and almost run into Stan as I walk into the hall.

"Do you get out of class like, a minute early just so you can come and lurk out here or something?" I ask him, and he laughs.

Stan has made it a routine to meet me right outside the door of our econ class (I say "our" because he has the class the period before me) and walk with me to the lunch room. It's five minutes of my day I look forward to the most, because it's almost the only time I get to hang out with him at school without anyone else. And then he's off to Wendy, leaving me with Kenny and Fatass.

"No, I don't lurk. My class is just right there, and I happen to sit by the door," he explains as we walk down the hall.

"Excuses, excuses," I tell him, smiling. "Admit it, you just get so eager to see me because you can't stand to be away from me for so long."

"Moron, I can stand to be away from you for a very long time. Anyway, I'm gonna need your help on the econ homework. I was too busy spacing out the entire time to pay attention to the lecture." I ignore his previous comment and laugh.

"I'm afraid you're coming to the wrong guy," I say, and he looks at me with a puzzled expression.

"What are you talking about? You always help me with my homework."

"True, but I was also too busy spacing out all period to listen to the lecture." I glance at him from the corner of my eye, and the shocked expression on his face is absolutely priceless.

"Dude, you're kidding! You never space out in class! That would like, go against your moral code of maintaining a perfect GPA!" We both grin at this, and I nod.

"Yes, but I'm sorry to admit, I was. So it looks like we're both pretty fucked." By this point, we're walking through the doors of the lunch room, and I'm surprised to see him still by my side. "Dude, aren't you meeting up with Wendy?"

"Not today. She went to sign up for the debate team."

"Oh yeah. I forgot, you told me that this morning. Well, let's go find a place to sit." I was about to suggest we look for Kenny and Cartman, but I held my tongue; I'd much rather take advantage of this situation and be with Stan alone.

Right as Stan and I find a place to sit, we hear our names being shouted across the room. We both look over to find Craig heading our direction. God damnit, he had better not be joining us! But knowing Stan, he's going to invite him. Damn Stan's manners…

"Hey Craig, what's up?" Stan greets him when he's in non-shouting earshot.

"Hey guys. Kenny wanted me to tell you to meet up with him in the band room," he explains, and I sigh. Great, now I still have to sacrifice my time with Stan to go find Kenny. Wait a minute…

"We have a band room? …We have a band?" I ask skeptically, and he shrugs.

"I guess so. But that's what he wanted me to tell you guys." Stan and I exchanged puzzled glances, and brush past Craig to find our way to the one wing of the school neither of us have ever been to.

"He better not be over there doing pot with the goth kids again," Stan says as we exit the lunch room.

-

About three minutes later, Stan and I are standing in the middle of a relatively large classroom with a high ceiling and walls covered in lockers. Several kids are in here too, kids I don't recognize. Some of them are playing instruments, and some of them are just hanging out. Christ, I feel out of place.

"Why the hell would Kenny even be in here? He would never socialize with these people," I hear Stan comment, and I shrug.

"I have no idea. I don't even see him." And, almost as if on cue, we see Kenny pop his head through a door in the back of the class. He spots us, and waves us over. Still a little confused, Stan and I walk over. This had better be worth having to give up my precious alone time with Stan.

"Dude, what the hell?" Stan asks Kenny as soon as we're outside the doors. I examine my surroundings and notice we're now behind the east wing of the school building. I also notice Kenny's out here with a few other guys, and that none of them are doing drugs. Good boy Kenny.

"Remember over the summer when I said I was going to try to sleep with as many girls as I could before graduation?" Kenny asks us with a big, mischievous grin on his face.

_The four of us had been sitting around in Stan's living room, just finishing up a game of Halo. Stan's parents weren't home, so Kenny had been raiding his pantry, and came into the room munching on a bag of chips._

"_So, I decided, just for kicks really, that I'm going to try to sleep with as many girls as I can before graduation," he had said proudly, following up his statement by shoving a handful of chips in his mouth._

"_Good for you," I had commented. "Just don't contract any STDs."_

Stan and I nod our heads at the memory, and Kenny proceeds.

"I've decided to join the marching band to help me accomplish my goal!" he tells us happily, and I cock my head in confusion.

"Wouldn't that do exactly the opposite?" He shakes his head in disagreement.

"Nope. You see, the girls in the colorguard are to the drumline as cheerleaders are to the football team," he explains.

"I see you've been studying your math ratios," I comment.

"I've been studying my high school cliques," he corrects.

"But I still don't get it… Why not just join the football team? That way you could still get girls to sleep with you without damaging your reputation by becoming a band geek," Stan points out.

"Because," Kenny begins, "the girls in the colorguard are way hotter and way sluttier. And besides, we all know that I'm way too scrawny to ever make the football team." He has a point there, Stan and I both know.

"Alright then. So you're in the drumline now?" Stan asks, and Kenny nods his head.

"Yep. I talked to my counselor yesterday about switching in." He suddenly turns to me. "Unfortunately Kyle, this means that I have to switch out of photo with you." I frown in protest.

"That's so lame!" I complain, and he holds up his hands before I can continue.

"Calm down and let me finish. I switched out of photo, but I'm switching into your 5th period history class." At this, Stan and I both snort in disbelief.

"You willingly signed up for a history class?" Stan asks, and Kenny grins casually.

"Sure, why not? I figure since I'll be in the class with Brainiac here, I'll get to sleep and pass the class! An easy A."

"You douche, I'm not going to let you take advantage of my answers!" I protest as I shove him. He catches his footing and laughs lightly. He stops soon after, and the three of us stand there in silence for a moment.

"So, can you really play this thing?" Stan asks to break the silence, eyeing the snare drum on the stand next to Kenny. We all turn our attention to the drum, and Kenny grins again.

"It's not that hard. All you do is hit it in different patterns. But you have to hold the sticks a certain way, too," he explains as he situates himself on the other side of the drum. He takes the drumsticks out of a pocket on the side, and places them in his hands what I assume to be the proper way.

"Play something," I request.

"Not yet," he says, pointing a drumstick in my face. "I'll play something for you when I get better."

"But I thought you said you could play it?" I inquire, challenging his confident grin with my own.

"Anyone can pound on a drum, but it takes a real musician to play a beat," he tells us with a wink.

"Since when did you get so deep?" Stan asks him as Kenny places the drumsticks back in their pocket.

"Since I learned that's how girls like it."

* * *

(POV: Cartman)

I am so seriously pissed off right now.

It's lunch time. Fucking lunch time, and I don't even get to spend it eating. Mom made me sign up for the debate team. The fucking debate team, which meets at lunch. God damn it.

The reason Mom made me sign up for the debate team, of all things, is because she and that fucking Jew-principal thought it would be a good way to channel some pent up energy. Energy that, apparently, has been spent mostly on bullying other kids for the last few years. Bullshit I was bullying; those kids needed to know that if they tried to take my spot in the lunch line, I would kick them square in the nuts. It's not my fault they didn't listen, which forced me to show them just how serious I was by demonstrating on Butters.

As I walk down the hall, I pull a crumpled up piece of paper out of my pocket and check the number on it—105. I immediately look up at the classroom door I'm approaching, and find that I'm in the right place. Well, if I'm being forced to do this, I might as well make the most of it. Who knows, maybe I can get a rise out of some of these douche-bags?

I clutch the handle of the door, and happen to look up into the little door-window into the classroom. I stop dead in my tracks upon looking in. No! No no no! This can't be fucking happening! Through said window I see the one person I hoped I would never have to socialize with again. The one person who can reduce me to a bumbling moron without saying a word. The one person who has managed to wrap me around their little finger.

Wendy Testaburger.

Shit! Before she can spot me at the door, I bolt to the wall and out of view. Great, now my heart is racing. God damnit, why now? I thought I would never have to talk to her again, if I could help it! But now I'm forced to be on the debate team with her? Fucking balls!

My crush on Wendy is the one secret I've been able to successfully hide from everyone. That is, until two years ago I made the stupid, stupid decision of telling her how I feel, in hopes that she would return them. I don't even know what the hell I was thinking.

Of course, the stupid bitch wasn't even considerate about it. She made a face, one that I will never forget, called me a fat bastard and said she wouldn't date me if her life depended on it. I will never, ever admit it to anyone, but it was the one time in my life that I've ever felt unloved and unimportant. Like all the years of everyone calling me names and saying that they hated me finally mattered… Like they were all being said by her.

I never told anyone about what I did, but I was certain that Wendy would tell every fag in the tri-state area as soon as she got the chance. I was shocked the next day when nothing was different; she never told. Which is why I haven't thrown away my feelings for her. Even though she hurt me more than anyone ever could, that one act of not telling anyone made me believe that I might still have a chance.

Even if I've avoided any and all confrontation with her since then.

It's not that I'm afraid of her; I'll be damned if I ever think of myself as a coward. I just wouldn't know what to say. Man, that bitch has got me seriously screwed up. I hate my feelings for her, so damn much. But what the hell, I might as well get over myself and walk in there like I own the place. And if she says anything to me, I'll just have to try to act like I hate her. Which shouldn't be too hard, since I do.

So I make up my mind, turn around, throw open the door, and walk in. Of course, now the entire class is staring at me, including Wendy. Crap, there goes my heart again. But I just have to ignore it and find a seat. Back of the class should be good. That way I don't have to think she's staring at me.

As I sit down, I realize that the advisor of the club, some asshole teacher who has nothing to do but supervise a dumbfuck club on campus, isn't here. I hope they got in a brutal ten car pile-up. Or eaten alive by a pack of seriously pissed off wolverines. Anything to buy me a ticket out of this hellhole. A moment later, I notice Wendy get out of her seat in the front of the class and start walking my way. What the hell?

"Hey Cartman," she says kindly, which is very odd. She sounds bored, though. God damnit, if she's bored in here, then I'm going to lose my fucking mind. Twice.

"What the hell do you want, ho?" Well, that was easier than I thought it would be. She gives me an annoyed glare, but sits next to me anyway.

"Nothing. I just didn't expect to see you here, is all. I'm only in here because Millie said she would sign up with me, but it's looking like she bailed," she explains. "So now you're the only person in here that I know. Why are you in here, anyway?"

"The dumb-shit principal and my mom made me sign up. Something about venting some pent up anger or something retarded like that," I tell her, and she nods dismissively.

The remainder of the time is spent in an awkward silence, and it's frustrating as balls. Right as I think about getting up and leaving, the advisor walks in. Fuck.

"Hello everybody!" she says. Too happily. She's a relatively short woman, with curly blonde hair and a big smile on her face. What is she, the fucking pep squad coach? …Now that I think about it, I think she is. Jesus Christ.

In fact, as I look around at the other kids in the room, I realize that I'm surrounded by every faggy popular kid. And I know instantly that they're all going to drive me insane. I have no choice—I'll have to kill them all.

"Wow, we have quite a turnout this year!" the pep squad bitch says, looking at the sign up sheet. "My name is Mrs. Mead, and those of you who have been a member of this club in the past know that Mr. Sampson is usually the advisor, but since he's retired you get me!"

The only question is, how to do it… If I kill them swiftly, I can get out of here faster. But if I do it slowly, I won't have wasted my lunch on a bunch of dicks.

As the blonde ho-bag rambles on about what all we'll be doing in this club, I turn to Wendy to get her opinion. I stop, however, when I notice she looks like she's actually enjoying this. Shit, she's been brainwashed! Oh well, I'll have to kill her too.

* * *

(POV: Stan)

When school finally lets out, I complete my daily routine of walking Wendy to her car, do our usual round of hugging and kissing, then make my way to my truck. I fish my keys out of my pocket when I'm in eye-shot, and as I approach I notice Kyle sitting on the truck bed. That's right, I'm not going straight home—Kyle and I are getting together with Kenny and Cartman at Cartman's house to discuss our plans for Labor Day. Damn it, I wanted to go home and sleep; it's been such a long day. Well, whatever. I'll just suck it up and hope this doesn't take forever.

"Hey dude," I greet him as I walk around to the back of my truck. He looks up and smiles.

"Hey. You ready to go?"

"Sure thing." He jumps off of the truck bed, grabs his bag, and closes the back. We both get in the car, and as I turn on the engine and back out, I decide I need coffee.

"Do you mind if we stop by Harbucks or something? I'm about to fucking fall asleep at the wheel," I ask him, and he shrugs.

"Sure, I don't care. You look like you're about to fall asleep anyway. And if we crash and die, my mom will never let you drive me around again." I smile at his lame joke, and pull out of the parking lot in the direction of the nearest Harbucks.

-

As soon as caffeine is in my system, I feel better. We make our way to Cartman's house next, and I park on the other side of the street, and the two of us get out and make our way to the door. The moment we approach, we hear loud moaning and screaming coming from inside. Kyle and I exchange disturbed glances, and he mutters a "Jesus Christ!" under his breath. I snicker and reach for the doorbell, but before I can even reach it Cartman storms out, looking pissed off and surprised to see us standing there.

"We aren't staying here, you gahs," he tells us as he brushes past us in a huff. We turn to follow him down the walkway, Kyle grinning mischievously.

"So, I hear your mom's –"

"Screwing about five different guys at once? Yeah. I know." Cartman interrupts him as he pulls out the keys to his Mustang. (Stock Mustang, at that. He thinks it's badass, but he isn't fooling anyone.) I glance over at Kyle, and from the look on his face, it doesn't seem like he's going to stop pushing Cartman's buttons.

"Wow. That must be a new record for her."

"No, it's not. She was with seven guys once. At the same time."

Well, there's something neither of us expected—Cartman didn't get all offended and pissy. He must've had a rough day or something. …Nah. He would have exploded if that were the case. But it is suspicious that he's so calm…

"Cartman, are you feeling okay?" I ask, standing at his car window as he starts the engine.

"I'm fine, Stan. Now you and Jew-boy get in your hick-ass truck and meet me at Whistlin' Willie's. Kenny's already there." I don't even get the chance to ask him if he's sure before he peels out of the driveway and speeds down the street.

"It freaks me out every time you act concerned towards Cartman," Kyle tells me, and heads for the car.

-

It's about five o'clock, and the four of us are still at this shitty excuse for a pizza place. I'm really glad I decided to get that coffee, or I'd be asleep on my slice of pizza right now. I am surprised that it's not crowded here tonight, though. It is a Friday, after all, and we're practically the only ones here. Save a few families with kids, that is.

Kyle and Cartman are arguing over some stupid detail in our plans as I zone out, straw hanging loosely in my mouth as I blow bubbles in my soda. I only vaguely listen to their "conversation", if you could call it that. I have my mind on other things at the moment. I do notice Kenny reach for my pizza; he's eaten everyone else's share. Except for Cartman's. He slapped him away from his.

"Cartman, you dumb fat fuck, we are not bringing a trailer! The whole point of outdoor camping is to be outdoors!" I hear Kyle shout.

"That's bullcrap! I will bring a trailer, and a TV! If I miss SNL on Saturday because of you Kahl, I swear I will rip every limb from your Jew body!"

"There aren't even any hookups where we're going! You wouldn't be able!"

"EVERY LIMB, KAHL!"

It's amazing we haven't been kicked out yet.

"Cartman, he's right," I say, deciding to step in when I see some of the parents eyeing us. "We'll be out in the middle of nowhere. There's not even going to be any electricity. Can't you just record it or something? I thought you have Tivo."

"Not anymore," he growls, glaring at me for siding with Kyle. "It broke when my mom overloaded on too much porn. I guess she just can't get enough on her own these days." He says that last comment with fake sympathy.

"That wasn't your mom Tivoing porn," Kenny admits with a mouthful of pizza. Cartman's head suddenly whips around like a bull spotting a read flag.

"Kenny, you horny sonofabitch!"

"I'm sorry! I don't have cable, how am I supposed to resist when you live right there?" He starts to scramble out of the booth when Cartman lunges at him from across the table. Kyle and I have to restrain him before he kills the poor blond bastard.

"You know you don't have to come with us, Cartman," I offer when we get him back on his side of the table.

"I will go, Stan," he replies forcefully. "Because if I don't, Jew-boy will have more time to plot against me." I honestly can't tell if he's being serious.

"Fuck you, Cartman," Kyle spats. "You're such a paranoid, self-centered bastard to think that I would spend my spare time plotting against you."

"Whatever. I know you are." This time I have to hold Kyle's arm back before he punches Cartman out. Not that the fat asshole doesn't deserve it, but these two sure are getting under each other's skin tonight.

"Jesus Christ, you guys. Can we just finalize these plans? I have to tell my parents what they are by tonight if I want to be able to go," I plea, and Kyle settles down.

"Fine, whatever."

-

Fortunately, the rest of the planning continued without much more incident, and we were out of there by five forty-five. Thank God. If I had to sit in there a minute longer, I would have lost my mind. The coffee sure didn't last very long… Kyle told Cartman to drive Kenny home, so he doesn't blow what little money he has on something stupid rather than food for our trip. With protest from both, we finally make it to the parking lot and into our separate cars.

The entire drive to Kyle's house is silent, until I park in front of his place. We sit there for a moment, resting in a comfortable silence. Then I realize…why is he still sitting here? Shouldn't he be leaving? Unless he has something to say…? A few more moments pass, and Kyle finally opens his mouth.

"This campout is going to be so kick-ass," he says. I turn my head to look at him; he's looking out his window at his house, and I wait for him to turn to face me.

"Yeah."

"We haven't done something like this, just the four of us, in a really long time. It's an awesome way to kick off our senior year."

"…Yeah," I repeat lamely. I roll my eyes; why couldn't I have said something more interesting?

Finally, Kyle faces me. I notice his eyes are full of… I'm not quite sure. Sympathy, I think. But sympathy for what? Maybe I'm wrong, but it looks like something meaningful. And it looks like he wants to say something important. Something that I want to hear. I feel my heart kick into overdrive at the thought. I wish I could read his mind…

But rather than saying anything, he turns his head and gathers his things to get out of the car. Just like that, something that could have been a moment is gone. I let out a deep sigh amongst the commotion of his departure. Was I really holding my breath?

"Thanks for the ride, Stan," he says, and shuts the door.


	4. September 1

Misery Business 

Written by: Spirit-the-Titan

Fandom: South Park

Pairings: Stan/Wendy, eventual Stan/Kyle

September 1

(Cartman's POV)

_ There's… so many of them! How can I possibly take them all? Oh god, they're coming right for me! I have to find cover! So… So many JEWS!_

_ "Vrrrb! Vrrrb!"_

_ "Aye, shut up, stupid Control Center! They'll hear me!"_

_ "Vrrrb! Vrrrb! Vrrrb!"_

_ "Shut up shut up!"_

Vrrrb- vrrb- vrrrb—

I finally come to and realize it was all a dream… Only to wake up to the horrible vibrating of my phone on my nightstand at god damn 5:30 am. Jesus Christ, and it's the fucking Jew, no less.

"What the fuck do you want!" I scream into the phone.

"You asshole, we're outside! Did you forget about our trip today?" Shit. I had forgotten.

"Oh god damn it… I'll be down in a sec!"

I hang up before he can reply, as I quickly throw on some clothes and stuff more into a bag. I run down the stairs and into the kitchen to stuff some extra snacks into my bag as well, in case they don't bring enough. I run out the front door and see them all piled in Stan's truck, with the truck bed full of various camping gear. Kyle scoots to the middle seat just in time for me to open the door and jump inside.

"Did you pack the spare batteries like we asked?" Kyle asks before Stan starts driving.

"Fuck!" Another thing I had forgotten. Christ… I throw the car door open and run back inside, grab the forgotten pack of batteries on the kitchen table, and run back outside.

"Damn, you must've lost like five pounds on that little jog," Kenny pipes from the back seat. I make a lunge for this throat.

"Shut your poor fucking mouth you bastard!" I hear him snickering, as Kyle pushes me back to my side of the seat.

"Just shut up and stay out of my personal space, Fat Ass! It is way too early for your bullshit!"

"Keep your Jew hands off of me—"

"CARTMAN I WILL KILL YOU." Stan yells, and we all shut up. "I need all of you to shut up and not act like five-year-olds while I drive, because I did not sleep well last night. So unless you want to DIE, I suggest you all SHUT IT."

"Sorry, Stan…" Kyle apologizes. What a fag.

"Stupid hippies…" I mutter, and plug in my iPod. It's going to be a long, cramped drive to Stark's Lake. I'm beginning to question why I am even going with these assholes.

* * *

(POV: Stan)

By 6:30 everyone has fallen back to sleep. Which is nice, because I prefer to drive when it's peaceful; especially driving through the mountains. I'm glad we picked our campout spot to be Stark's Lake, since it's a good two hour drive up the mountain. My goal for this trip is to clear my head enough to get through the school year unscathed.

I go over a small bump in the road, which causes Kyle's head to roll from the back of the seat onto my shoulder. He looks so peaceful and cozy… It's making me a little weary. We should probably stop at the next pit stop up ahead, so I can grab some coffee. It would be a shame if I dozed off at the wheel and killed us all in a horrible car crash.

Kyle readjusts himself on my shoulder a little, subconsciously getting more comfortable. I look down at him briefly, catching a glimpse of his sleeping face. I think back to the conversation we had on the phone last night, with a pang in my chest.

_"So just to go down the list one more time, Kenny's bringing the tent, you're in charge of the food, I'm in charge of the cooking supplies and the lantern, and Cartman is bringing spare batteries?"_

_ "For the last time, yes," Kyle said with an exasperated sigh. It was the third time I've asked him to finalize the check-list._

_ "Why is Cartman only bringing batteries?"_

_ "Because he isn't responsible enough to handle bringing anything else. I will probably have to call and remind him to bring just those," he explained. I chuckled._

_ "Good point." We're both silent for a moment, but I hear him rustling around in the background. _

_ "Dude I am so stoked for this trip. It hasn't been just the four of us for an entire weekend in ages! It'll be like the good old days…"_

_ "Yeah, totally," I agreed lamely. It wasn't that I wasn't excited, because I was very excited. I was just a little preoccupied with my thoughts…_

_ "Are you sure Wendy's okay with you going?" he teased. I frowned at him over the phone._

_ "Of course she is, but I won't say she's too happy about it."_

_ "How come?"_

_ "She wanted me to go with her to some big party on Labor Day, but I had to tell her no. So now she's all pissy that she doesn't get to spend the first real holiday of our relationship together." I heard him scoff on the other end of the line._

_ "'Real holiday'? Dude, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."_

_ "Yeah I know, it's a horrible excuse. But… I feel bad about it… She is my girlfriend, after all."_

_ "Well, yeah, I guess I could see how you would feel bad," he replied, and I could tell it was fake. I was silent for a moment after that, pondering._

_ "Um… would you guys be upset if I maybe left for a little bit tomorrow night to go see her, and then come back?" I asked meekly, my voice trailing off more and more towards the end of the question. I already knew his reply._

_ "Dude, what the hell! You can't ditch us for a girl on our bro-camp out! Come on, Stan, Christ!" I could tell he was really upset about it._

_ "You're right, I'm sorry I asked…" _

_ "I'm serious, Stan. Don't go planning anything stupid, I know how you are. You can't please everyone."_

_ "Yeah yeah, I know dude. I won't…" _

_ "Well we better get to bed, if we're leaving at 5:00 in the morning. Are you sure you'll be able to drive that early?"_

_ "Yeah, I should be fine. I'll just have some coffee."_

_ "Kay. I'll see you in the morning, dude."_

_ "See you…"_

I feel horrible for not keeping my promise to Kyle, because in the end I did do something stupid. At least, by his terms I did. But I don't have much time to ponder about it now, because I pull into view of the rest stop. I signal and pull off the road, park and turn off the car. Kenny is the first to stir.

"Are we there already?" he asks, with a big yawn to follow.

"Not yet, we're at a rest stop," I inform him, and gently shake Kyle from my shoulder. He slumps from me onto Cartman, who is now stirring, and is suddenly alarmed to find a sleeping Jew on his arm.

"Aye! Get your faggy Jew ass off of me!" he overreacts, and shoves Kyle hard back onto me. On impact, Kyle wakes up.

"What the fuck Cartman!" he retaliates, only half knowing what's going on. After his anger is gone, he realizes we are stopped. He turns to me as I get out of the car.

"Where are we?" he asks, following me out.

"I had to stop for coffee or something, I'm falling asleep. We're at a rest stop about 30 minutes away from the lake," I tell him as I head towards the single vending machine.

"Oh thank god, because I have to take the biggest piss," I hear Cartman say as he climbs out of the truck, and follows Kenny into the men's room. Kyle catches up to me at the vending machine, and leans up against it as I make my selection.

"Did I fall asleep?" he asks, watching me as I curse about their lack of iced coffee.

"Yeah, you fell asleep on my shoulder," I tell him, and I catch a glimpse of the blush that forms on his cheeks.

"Oh… Sorry, dude."

"It's cool. I'm sorry I rolled you onto Cartman," I admit as I insert the one dollar bill into the machine. The light 'thud' of the Coke can masks the remorseful grumble that Kyle emits when he remembers his unfortunate wake-up call. I pop open the can and take a large gulp, in order to get the caffeine coursing through my veins before I get back behind the wheel. We start to head back to the truck before Kyle realizes that he has to pee, and runs back to the bathroom.

"Shotgun!" I hear Kenny yell as he races Cartman back to the truck.

"God damn it Kenny, I am not sitting in the middle!" he argues, pulling on the now locked passenger door that Kenny had slammed in his face.

"You don't have to, because the middle is Kyle's seat," I explain to him, and this pisses him off more.

"You assholes! I hate the back seat! You always push your seats back as far as they can go just to make me cramped!"

"We don't move our seats at all. You're just too fat!" Kenny teases him, and suddenly Cartman is back at his door, pulling on the handle.

"Fuck you, Kenny!"

"Oh Jesus, don't tell me you're starting this shit again, Cartman," Kyle groans as he walks back to the truck. I open the door for him to get inside, and pop the driver's seat up in order for Cartman to crawl in the back seat. He mutters obscenities as he does so. After putting my seat back properly, I take one last swig of my Coke and put it in the cup holder between Kyle's legs, and start the engine.

It's not long after we're back on the road that the complaining begins.

"Stan you asshole, push your seat forward! My legs are cramped!" Cartman whines in my ear. I have to hold back from punching him in the nose.

"It's adjusted to the right setting for me to reach the pedals, dumb-ass! If your legs are cramped, move behind Kenny and shut your fucking mouth!" He whines a little more.

"But Kenny will push his seat back on purpose just to piss me off!"

"Then just shut your fucking mouth!" I yell, and I hear a few more grumbles from behind me before he shuts up. Kyle gives me his fist to bump in victory.

The remainder of the drive to Stark's Lake was relatively quiet; the three of us up front played an incredibly lame game of "I Spy", before we arrived at the campgrounds. Since we were too cheap to pay for an actual campsite, we decided to drive on past the grounds to the other side of the lake, where we plan to rough it until Sunday.

There is little incident between arrival and setting up camp, save the usual bickering of Cartman and everyone else, but we had everything set up by 10 am. Now it's creeping up on evening time, and all we have to do is relax for the next few days.

"Who wants to go shooting for a bit?" Kyle asks from behind me. He had brought along a few hunting rifles, for leisurely shooting and maybe to score a rabbit or something to cook.

"Hell no, not me," Kenny quickly says. "I don't want to die this weekend."

"I figured as much," Kyle rolls his eyes. "What about you, Stan?" I look up at him from my lawn chair, in-progress text to Wendy on my phone.

"Uh, not right now… Maybe in a little bit…?" I say, trying to remain cool. I honestly don't see any shooting happening this weekend, considering that Kyle will take the opportunity to kill me when he finds out…

"Well, okay," he sighs, and puts the guns back in the bed of the truck. Great, now I feel worse…

"Damnit!" we hear Cartman yell from the road we drove up. "There's a car coming! Probably some other group of douchebags who are going to crowd our spot!" My heart sinks.

As the car drives up closer to our camp spot, we all stare at it. When it parks right next to my truck, Cartman heads to the back of the truck to retrieve a rifle with the plan of scaring them off or killing them. But when the engine turns off and a familiar head of silky black hair appears from the cab, I break into a cold sweat.

"Wendy?" Cartman exclaims in an octave I've never heard before.

And then, the voice I've been dreading.

"STAN!"

* * *

(Kyle's POV)

I cannot believe it. That ASSHOLE!

"Hey boys!" Wendy chimes happily as she walks up to the campsite. She heads straight for Stan, plops down in his lap and kisses him full on the mouth. I wonder if anyone will care if I lunged for that rifle right now…

"Wendy, what the hell are you doing here? This is a boy's campout!" Kenny scolds. I can tell he's doing it in my favor, since I am too angry for words at the moment. I can hear Wendy giggle at her "mistake".

"Don't blame me! My sweet Stanley here invited me for the day!" Stan swallows audibly at being called out. All I can do is stare holes into the back of his head.

"Stan what the hell! Bro's before ho's, you butt-licker!" Cartman yells at him. I can't take it anymore; I need some answers.

"Stan, side-bar!" I yell at him, and he flinches at the sound of my voice. Like a kicked dog, he slowly lifts Wendy from his lap, stands himself up and walks shamefully over to me. When his eyes meet mine, I glare at him and motion for him to follow me into the woods.

We've done a good five minutes of walking—power walking, on my part—through the woods before Stan has the balls to say anything.

"Kyle, can we stop and talk please?" he asks quietly, almost as if he was ashamed to say anything. Which he should be, in my opinion. But finally, with a heavy sigh, I stop. I hear him stop abruptly behind me, being careful not to bump into me. I continue to face away from him.

"What the fuck, dude!" I turn to face him, and he flinches when he sees the look of anger and hurt on my face. "This trip was supposed to be for us!"

"Kyle, I'm sorry, I—"

"You are such an asshole, Stan! You don't go plan a fucking outing for guys, and secretly have your girlfriend tag along! That is the biggest dick move I've ever seen you pull!"

"I know, I know—"

"What the fuck were you thinking, huh? It's bad enough she fucking steals you away from me at school, but this is crossing the fucking line!" He stares blankly at me when I don't continue my ramble. "Well?" I ask again, and he bit his lip.

"It's just for tonight, Kyle… She said she really wanted to be with me this weekend… She _needed_ to be with me…" he trails off, and I wait for him to explain further.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He bit his lip again, and a blush formed on his cheeks as he prepared his next words.

"You know, maybe… I might get to score…?" he mumbles the last part, and I reach my breaking point.

"You son of a BITCH!" I shove him for emphasis, and he loses his footing a little on some loose gravel. "You were going to try and bang her? In the same tent as the rest of us? You shouldn't even bewith her, Stan! She's a whore!"

Right as the words leave my mouth, I see a change in emotion on Stan's face. In the blink of an eye he goes from ashamed to furious, and before I know what's happening, there's a fist in my face. I fall to the ground and put a hand to my throbbing jaw, completely in shock. He… he hit me.

I look up at him in disbelief, and watch him shake off his hand. He's still staring at me with that hateful look, and all I can do is stare at him, shocked. I slowly push myself to my feet and dust myself off.

"Don't call Wendy a whore, asshole! You have no right!"

"You're the asshole here! You've ruined the whole weekend!"

"Her being here shouldn't change anything, Kyle! She's just one more person!"

"You idiot, it changes everything! She's your girlfriend, not just another friend! It's not the same!"

"What are you, _jealous_?"

And just like that, I'm seeing red. I clench my fist, but… I can't do it. I can't hit him. All I can do is glare at him, as he returns the glare and waits for my arm to swing.

"Go home, Stan," I growl, trying to hide the hurt from my voice. His anger breaks, and he looks confused.

"What?"

"Leave! Take Wendy and go home! I don't want you here anymore!" My heart is beating so fast, my chest feels like it might explode. He has that hurt look on his face again.

"Fine! I'll go! I don't want to spend the weekend with an asshole who thinks my girlfriend is a whore anyway!" he screams at me, his voice cracking a little under his emotions.

"And I don't want to spend my weekend with someone who doesn't know how to make time for his friends!" I retaliate, and with one last glare, he turns and starts his angry trek back to camp.

I wait for him to be out of sight before I let myself crumble to the ground in a mess of emotions.

* * *

(Kenny's POV)

There's an awkward air between these two. I've never noticed it until now.

Wendy has been sitting in the lawn chair Stan abandoned since he left, and Cartman sitting on the truck bed, staring at her every once in a while. Geez, this is just weird. I have to break this silence.

"So… who wants to play some Poker?" I ask, pulling a deck of cards out of my bag.

"Sure," Wendy replies, and walks over to the table where I'm sitting. Cartman sighs and follows.

"Poker is gay, but whatever. There's nothing else to do out here," he complains. I roll my eyes and start shuffling. Wendy starts to deal out the chips.

"Should I deal any for Stan and Kyle?" she asks, and I shrug.

"Nah, they could take a while out there. I think Kyle's pretty pissed." I catch her sneak a grin at this. Wow, what a bitch.

"Did you guys know that Poker was invented by the Chinese mafia to determine who will live or die in the royal family?" Cartman says, and we both stare at him. "It's really called '_pok-cho_'."

"…Cartman, that's not right at all," Wendy says after a moment.

"It is so, I read it in my World History class."

"No, you're lying. Poker's origins are unknown. It's assumed that the earliest form was invented in China in around 900 A.D., but that's not what it was used for," she explains matter-of-factly. I continue to shuffle in silence.

"I'm not lying, you bitch! How do you know that my history teacher didn't get the most recent historical facts, and told them to our class!"

"Because our teachers are paid a horrible salary, and probably don't give two shits about the exact origins of Poker!"

"You want to call me on my bluff?"

"I don't have to because I know I'm right!"

"Well you can suck mah balls!"

"Okay just SHUT UP and let's play!" I cut in, and begin to deal everyone a hand. They've stopped arguing, but they continue to stare daggers at each other.

We are near the end of the hand, which I am ironically winning, when Stan comes crashing through the bushes in a blind rage. Wendy and I stand up and rush over to him to see what's going on, while Cartman remains at the table, sneaking chips from our piles to his.

"Stan, what happened?" Wendy asks in a frightened tone. I notice his knuckles are cut up. Oh crap…

"Come on, Wendy, we're leaving," he says angrily, and I'm taken aback.

"What? Why the hell would you leave?" I ask in a panic. He clenches and unclenches his fists uneasily, and his face is a muddle of emotion.

"Kyle told me to leave. He doesn't want me around this weekend," he explains, trying hard (and failing) to hide the hurt in his voice. Wendy grabs his hands sympathetically. He takes them back gingerly and begins rushing around camp to gather his things.

"Why would he do that, Stan?" Wendy asks, watching him. I already know the reason.

"Things got pretty heated out there… We both said some things, and I punched him." My heart sinks.

"You _punched_ him?" I yell, and Stan furrows his eyebrows.

"You don't know what went on out there, Kenny!"

Quite frankly, I don't care what went on in the woods between the two that would have caused Stan to punch Kyle, but I do care that he punched him. Considering the current mental state of Kyle regarding the whole being-in-love-with-Stan thing, all I know is he's out there in a worse condition than Stan is. And with that thought in mind, I rush into the forest the way Stan had come from.

It takes me a little while to find him, but I do. He's on the ground, sitting with his head tucked between his knees, and crying—or hyperventilating, I'm not sure. I rush to his side, slide down next to him and put a comforting arm around his shoulders. We sit there for a few minutes, and I notice his breathing has slowed. He lifts his head to look at me finally—eyes completely dry—and I get a good look at the bruise forming on his jaw. I winced a little.

"Damn, he really laid it on you," I tell him. He frowns and looks away.

"I couldn't hit him back. I don't know why," he explains somewhat disappointedly.

"You can't hit the person you love most."

"Well I guess that says everything I need to know about his feelings towards me," he says, defeated. His shoulders slump a little under my arm.

"That's not true. Sometimes you _have_ to hit the person you love most, to express your love better." He looks at me skeptically. "But I'm not reinforcing the thought that he has feelings for you."

"That doesn't make any sense, Kenny."

"It doesn't have to."

There's more silence for a bit, while Kyle thinks to himself. I wait patiently for him to speak, as I think about what might have gone down between them. It's rare that they get physical with each other.

"How am I going to face him again, Kenny…? I'm going to see him on Monday at school…"

"You guys will get over it, you have in the past. I bet the next time you see each other it will be like nothing ever happened."

"I don't think so, this got really personal…" Now I'm really curious.

"Well, tell me how it went down then. What did you do to make him hit you?" He scowls a bit at the memory, but slowly begins.

"I brought him out here to yell at him, I called him all kinds of names and told him how he ruined the trip, and he was fine and taking it until I called Wendy a whore. That's when he punched me." I made a face.

"That's not good, dude. If he got that mad over _her_? I think you should give it up. You know when a man's got it bad for a girl when he's willing to fight to defend her good name."

"I don't even care about that right now, I'm more concerned with the state of our friendship…"

"So what, are you saying that you don't have feelings for him anymore?" I ask cautiously.

"I don't know… I just don't see the point anymore. I'm already tired of fighting for his attention, and to know that he went behind my back to spend time with her over me… It's just not worth it. I have a feeling that these feelings for him are going to go away after this."

"If you say so," I agree, and push myself to my feet. "Now, how about we get back to camp and get on with our bro-weekend, Stan-free, eh?" I hold out my hand to help him up, and he takes it.

"Sounds good to me."

Stan and Wendy are gone by the time we get back to camp, but I notice that everything is still the same—all the supplies he brought, including his truck, are still here. I find Cartman for some answers.

"Dude, why did he leave everything?" I ask him as he plays a game of solitaire. He carefully ponders his next move.

"I don't know, he said something about us needing it for the rest of the weekend. They took Wendy's car," he explains as he places a card.

"Well, that was nice of him, I guess," I say as I look at Kyle for his reaction. He still seems a little blank. I watch him sigh as he heads for the tent.

"I'm going to bed," he says, and zips up behind himself. I have a feeling it's going to be a long weekend.

* * *

(Kyle's POV, pt. II)

I feel sore all over, and my jaw is still pounding. I didn't think to pack any pain killers… I guess I will just have to deal with it. All I can think about is the look in Stan's eye as he stood over me, like he hated me… I can't get it out of my head. I don't know how I will sleep at all, if that keeps replaying…

I take off my coat and jeans, leaving a white shirt and boxers, and crawl into my sleeping bag. It feels amazing to be lying down in bed. Then I realize… this pillow smells like Stan. I sit up quickly and examine the bedding that I'm in, and it's all Stan's. Then I notice my phone lying at the foot of the sleeping bag, and it all makes sense. In Stan's hurry to get out of here, he must have grabbed my bedding thinking it was his, since my phone was on this one. Which means he's going to be sleeping on my pillow all weekend… I can't help but blush at the thought.

On that note, I grab my phone and lie back down, breathing deeply to fill my senses with Stan's smell. It's a musky smell, with that pop of something else that usually attracts the ladies. It makes my head spin, until I start replaying those thoughts in my head again, which makes it all more real. Like it's happening again…

My trance is broken when I feel my phone buzz next to my head. I reach for it and flip it open; it's a text from Wendy. My heart sinks immediately… What the hell would she want? I open it:

_Wendy T.: Hey kyle… jst wantd 2 let U no tht stan is rly rly sry… he dsnt want me 2 let U no how sad he is, but he is sad about wut hapnd. and he is so sry that he hit U, he feels super bad about it. he wants U 2 4give him…_

(Funny, I would have pinned Wendy for the type to spell out her texts…) My heart is beating out of control. Why would she send me this? I thought we had a silent hatred for one another… But if that's the case, maybe this is fake? Could it be possible that she sent me this to get my hopes up, when in reality Stan never wants to see me again? That might be going a little overboard… I'll just reply and see where it goes from there.

_Ask him to meet me before school on Mon, or on Sun evening if he wants to talk sooner…_

I can't get my heart to calm down. I look at my phone every few seconds, impatiently awaiting a reply. I wonder what it will say… She better not just reply with "kay" and leave it at that. I need to know how he's doing…

"bzzzt."

I open my phone as quickly as possible and open the text.

_Wendy T.: he sez sunday, so he can get his truck back 4 skool_

("Sez"? Really, Wendy?) Shit, now I have to face him sooner than later… I need to think about what I will say this weekend, so I don't screw this up. I need this to work…

_Okay, Sunday it is. So… How is he doing?_

I'm not sure if I should have tried to make conversation, it might be pushing it. I want to act as unhurt as possible right now, and if having said that makes me seem weak, it might backfire on me.

It takes several minutes before I get the next reply, and I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel my phone vibrate. I flip it open.

_Wendy T.: hes sleepin_

Damn it. That's the most unhelpful reply I could have gotten. But whatever, I should probably give it a rest and put this whole thing behind me for the remainder of the weekend. Sunday's going to be a long, nerve-wracking day…

_I'm sleeping too. Good-night…_


	5. September 3

Misery Business 

Written by: Spirit-the-Titan

Fandom: South Park

Pairings: Stan/Wendy, eventual Stan/Kyle

September 3

(Kyle's POV)

It's finally Sunday evening, and Kenny, Cartman and I are just getting back into town from our trip. The clock in Stan's truck reads 6:47 when I drop off Cartman, and I dreadfully head down the street to Stan's house. I hadn't heard from him at all after he left, save the few text messages from Wendy. I'm not sure how things will go down when I see him… I'm so nervous…

My heart sinks when his house is in view. I don't want to do this… This is one of those moments in life where you wish you could fast forward and be done with it. I don't want to deal with this right now; I'm still playing mad that he punched me, and I don't plan on giving up the charade until he apologizes. I bite my lower lip when I think this over… What if he doesn't apologize? What if he's _really_ mad? I won't know what to do if he's mad at me…

I park in his driveway, turn off the truck, and stall for a few minutes. Fuck… Why does this have to be so complicated? I almost wish I didn't have these stupid feelings, so I could go to the door knowing that it will all be better after this. With these feelings, I keep running the idea through my head that he won't forgive me. Now I'm just being ignorant; Stan doesn't know about my feelings, which makes this a normal make-up session to him. It should go over just fine.

With a heavy, shaky sigh, I get out of the truck and walk slowly up to the door. When I knock, it feels like it's in slow motion. My heart is racing…

I freeze when I see Stan himself open the door; he looks about as shocked and nervous as I do. His expression softens, and looks almost… guilty.

"Hey, dude," he says softly, a meek smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. I give him the same smile, but still try to look pissed.

"Hey…" He looks taken aback by my tone. "Um, you got our beds mixed up when you left…" I inform him, and hand him the pillow and sleeping bag I had stowed under my arm, and the keys to his truck. As he takes them, I am almost reluctant to give them up; they helped to keep me calm over the weekend. I was sad when the Stan smell wore off and became my own.

"Thanks," he says in the same soft tone, and presents my bedding to me from its waiting place by the door. I take it, and he steps out onto the porch with me, closing the door behind him.

He gestures to me with a slight movement of his head, motioning for me to follow him to his truck. He lets down the tailgate of the truck, and hops onto it to sit. I throw my stuff in the back, and do the same. We sit there for a few minutes before either of us speak.

"You're still mad…" he finally says, staring at the ground.

"Of course I am. You punched me in the face." I wonder how long I will have to keep this up.

He takes this opportunity to glance slightly at my face, and winces when he sees the bruise on my cheekbone. I try to remain angry at him, not looking at him and keeping my gaze fixated on a less than interesting bush across the street. He looks back to the street, and shoves his hands into his jacket pockets.

"Kyle, I'm so sorry…" he whispers.

And suddenly, I feel my body relax, letting my entire charade crumble noticeably. I let my shoulders slump, and sigh.

"I'm sorry too, Stan… I shouldn't have told you to go home," I tell him, and I can hear him relax as well.

"I shouldn't have hit you. I had no right… I was the one who was out of line. I mean, you shouldn't have called Wendy a whore, but still, I shouldn't have hit you… I'm sorry," he rambles, and I can't help but smile about it.

"It's okay dude, it was all in the heat of the moment," I say, trying to justify it. He's quiet for another moment, looking around the neighborhood as if it will help him find the right words to say next.

"Can I admit something?" he asks, and my heart leaps into my throat. My stupid heart has been doing that since the summer, at any sentence that sounds like he might tell me what I want to hear.

"What, dude?" I see him fumble around with something in his jacket pocket. He is stalling.

"I was… really upset when you told me to leave… I felt so bad… I still feel bad…" He stalls again, and starts speaking before I can ask him to continue. "I was really scared that I had ruined our friendship. Things have never been so heated between us…"

I finally look up at him. He really was scared; it's written all over his face.

"I was scared, too," I tell him. "I didn't know if you would be mad still; I was afraid that you wouldn't want to see me." He smiles a little, looking relieved.

"I'm so lucky to have you as my best friend, Kyle," he says, and I can't help but blush. "You're so forgiving… Thank you for putting up with my stupid shit all these years." I bite my lip, and fumble with something not-gay to reply to that with.

"I can't help it; I'm not willing to lose you." Fuck. I cringe inside at how completely stupid that sounded. But he smiles at it, nonetheless.

"I don't ever want to lose you either," he agrees. I wonder if he is feeling as silly as I do about how corny this conversation is getting, but he doesn't look like it. "Can I admit something else?"

"Um, sure." There goes my heart again. Oh man…

"You know those texts from Wendy on Friday?" Well I wasn't expecting that.

"Yeah, why?" He looks away shyly.

"…They were from me," he says quietly, and I catch the slightest blush form on his cheeks. "Wendy made me send them, though. She told me to, after I sulked the entire way home. She said it would make me feel better if I apologized, but I told her she didn't understand that us guys have to play macho and act angry about this shit. So she told me to use her phone and pretend to be her…" I'm quiet for a moment as I let this sink in, and then begin to snicker.

"That explains her shitty text speak," I tell him. He rolls his eyes at my teasing of his typing. "But… why did you tell me that you were sleeping when I asked how you were doing?"

"Because… I didn't want you to know how upset I was." Now I roll my eyes.

"Well I'm glad it's all behind us."

"Me too."

Stan looks like he is about to say something else, when he takes his hands out of his pockets and leans back on them. In doing this, his right hand lands on mine by accident, and he pulls it back just as fast as he had placed it there. Before I can react to this, though, he pulls me into a big hug. It's a good thing he isn't saying anything, because anything I would say in return would be in gibberish; I am too shocked by the sudden affection.

While I am lost for words, I catch Stan's arm move out of my peripheral vision. He brings one hand up to his mouth, and sticks his thumb in his mouth. What the hell is he doing…?

And then I feel his wet thumb wipe hard across my bruised cheekbone.

"OW, Stan! What the fuck!" I scream, and push him away. He is snickering as I wipe his saliva off of my face.

"Sorry dude, I just had to check and make sure you weren't pulling a fast one on me and put make-up on your face! I don't want to feel guilty if I don't have to!"

"You jackass, no I didn't put fucking make-up on my face! This is legit!" I tell him, and his snickering instantly fades. Not because I am yelling at him, which is all in good humor by the way, but because he is now allowing himself to see the real damage he had done.

"Damn, now I do feel really bad… I thought for sure you had enhanced it at least a little," he says, and his smile begins to fade. Damn it, I don't want to see him upset again…

"It's okay, dude. I actually kinda wish you had hit me in the eye; at least then I would have a bad-ass black eye," I admit, in an attempt to bring that smile back. I smile when it seems to work.

"Sorry, I'll try not to miss next time," he says playfully, and I shove him. I'm ecstatic that things are back to normal.

Unfortunately, this means that my hopes of him returning my feelings have come back.

Damn my hopelessness…

* * *

(A/N) Sorry for the short chapter; I just wanted to hurry up and fix the angst so I can get on to better things! 8DD


	6. September 14

Misery Business 

Written by: Spirit-the-Titan

Fandom: South Park

Pairings: Stan/Wendy, eventual Stan/Kyle

September 14

(Kenny's POV)

_It was Sunday evening, and Kyle and I had been hanging out. We were walking down the sidewalk to his house, since I had been invited over for dinner, when he asked of me a huge favor._

"_You want me to _what?_" I asked, shocked. He looked angry for having to say it again, as a bright blush formed across his nose._

"_I want you to ask Stan if he has feelings for me!" he grumbled, hands shoved into his coat pockets. "You know, hypothetically. And not directly, either. You guys have Home Room together, right?"_

"_Well, yeah…"_

"_That's perfect! You can talk to him about stuff, making up questions and anything he says that seems remotely close to a confession, let me know."_

"_How the hell am I supposed to pull this off?" _

"_You'll think of something, you're clever." I sighed deeply._

"_Kyle, you're making a huge mistake," I told him sternly, and he frowned._

"_Why? You think I should go about it another way? I know! I could write him love letters from an anonymous person and—"_

_I stepped in front of him by this point, stopping him by forcefully placing my hands on his shoulders. I stared down at him… which was a little hard to do, with him being two inches taller than me._

"_I mean you're making a huge mistake by continuing to pursue him. What ever happened to you not having feelings for him anymore?" He looked away and blushed._

"_You know how persistent I can be…" he mumbled. I rolled my eyes and removed my hands from his shoulders. "Come on Kenny, you're the only one who knows about any of this… Either bear with me, or help me out any way you can."_

"_Fine. But if this all blows up in your face, you can't blame me at all."_

That was Sunday, and now it's Thursday morning, and I'm sitting in Algebra II—Home Room—with Stan. I had thought all week about what sorts of things I could talk to him about to help Kyle, but I've been coming up short. How the hell am I supposed to do this?

"Dude, knock it off, you're distracting me," Stan says quietly, bringing my attention back to reality. I had been tapping my foot and drumming my fingers on my desk rather loudly as I thought. We are currently in study groups, and I am the only one in ours that isn't pulling his weight. Which was typical, but I usually at least tried to look like I was helping.

"Er, sorry," I say, and then I have an idea. I immediately scoot my chair closer to Stan's. "So I have a question." He looks at me, a little irritated. I guess he really _is_ trying to work, even though no one else in class seems to be.

"What, Kenny," he says flatly, and I grin widely.

"You and Wendy… What's the deal there, dude?" He grumbles.

"We're _dating_, Kenny. You know that. Come on, I'm trying to finish my homework so I don't have to do it this weekend," he pleas, but I don't care. I would rather get some sort of answers for Kyle so I don't have to hear him bitch about this anymore.

"Yeah, but why?" He sighs and puts his head into his hands, clearly annoyed. "I mean, she's hot, but I heard she's a whore."

"You got that from Kyle," he accuses, suddenly interested. I shake my head to correct him.

"No dude, that's word on the street. I've heard some guys claim they've slept with her," I tell him, and he looks angry.

"That's impossible, Kenny! Stop telling me lies. Why are you asking me all these questions?"

"You haven't answered me." He glares at me. "Why are you dating her?"

"Because I _care_ about her, duh," he sighs. "That, and I didn't want to spend my senior year alone. With all the time we spent together over the summer, I felt like she could, you know, help with that."

"_You spent a lot of time with Kyle, too,"_ I almost say, but catch my tongue just in time. Can't go spoiling everything now.

"Dude, Wendy's the only person you've ever dated. You should have at least picked someone new to spend you senior year with," I tell him. "But you're so lame, she's probably the only person you've ever had a crush on." I watch him furrow his brow and hide a blush.

"That's not true, I've liked others," he argues, and I smile.

"Then maybe you should dump Wendy and pursue one of them! You really need to live it up, Stan. It's more exciting with someone new! Trust me," I say slyly, and wink.

"I'm not going to dump Wendy, you idiot. Things are so different this time… We're a lot more physical than we ever were before, and I think that maybe…" He trails off, but I can put the pieces together.

"You think she'll let you fuck her?" I offer casually, and he nearly shits himself.

"Dude!" he yells, blushing furiously. I seem to have struck a nerve.

"Really? I'm right?" I ask ecstatically. I may be getting side-tracked from my goal here…

"Well, yeah… I would like to lose my virginity before we graduate, you know." At this, I lunge in his face.

"Stan, you are going to screw yourself over if you fuck Wendy," I say sternly, and he looks frightened.

"W-what? Why?"

"If you fuck the only girl you've ever dated, you're going to wind up marrying her! Probably right out of high school! It will be horrible!" Now he looks skeptical.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing…"

"It's a tragedy! You being my friend, I will NOT settle for you to sleep with only one woman in your life! Did you _ever_ listen to Chef when we were little? If he heard you now, he would slap you right in your face!"

"Come on Kenny, I think you're missing the point—"

"Dude, you have to dump Wendy! If you want to lose your virginity before we get out of here, I can set you up with plenty of babes that will help you with that!"

"I'm not going to have sex with random sluts, Kenny!" he says, pushing me back into my seat and out of his face. "What Wendy and I have is special, and I'm not going to throw it away for meaningless sex!"

"God Stan, you're such a pussy," I tell him, lightly slamming my face against my desk. I begin to think of easy girls to set Stan up with, when Kyle pops into mind. What was I supposed to do for him again?

The bell rings for break before I can remember.

* * *

(Stan's POV)

"Kyle!" He turns around upon hearing my voice, and smiles, making his way through the crowded hall to my side.

"Hey, dude," he says dully as he readjusts his backpack.

"What's wrong? Daniels give you a hard time for spacing out again?" I inquire, and he scowls.

"He's such a bastard! He always picks on me! I don't know why I have such a hard time focusing in that class…"

Kyle continues to complain about the Economy teacher we share as we walk through the halls, and finally stops talking when we reach the cafeteria. He looks at me, puzzled.

"What're you still doing here? Aren't you going to meet Wendy?" he asks, and I shake my head.

"Not today, she has Debate." He immediately lights up.

"Sweet! I don't even remember the last time we got to spend lunch together! How often does she have it?"

"Eh, I'm not sure. It's kind of random…" I say with a shrug.

"Well that's annoying. Oh well, I guess it will always be a surprise. Come on, let's find a table," he says, and I follow him to the first available table. We sit down and chat about nothing in particular as we eat, until I realize that something is bothering me… And I'm pretty sure it's Kenny's fault.

"Um, Kyle…?" He looks up from his sandwich with a slightly worried expression, probably because of the tone of my voice.

"Yeah?"

I look away and fidget a bit, trying to stall. I don't know what I'm so nervous about… He moves towards me, probably concerned that something is wrong. I should relieve his worry.

"I've been meaning to ask you since the Labor Day trip… why you think Wendy is a whore," I finally say, and he lets out a long sigh. Was he holding his breath?

"Well, I dunno… It's just rumors I've heard. Bebe is her best friend, after all, and we all know how she is. I guess it's just logical to think that Wendy is the same way."

"Yeah…" I say quietly. "That's funny what you said about the rumors though, Kenny said the same thing. Where did you hear them?" He looks a bit nervous at my asking. What's this all about?

"You know… Kids in class say stuff like that, and it's all just overheard conversation, really." I frown at this.

"You're lying," I say accusingly. He looks away with a guilty face.

"Okay fine,_ I_ say those things. But not anymore, not since you hit me…" he admits, and I sigh. The memory of him on the ground with that look of disbelief flashes briefly through my mind, and I bite my lip.

"Well I want you to know she's a virgin, Kyle. She hasn't screwed around with anyone else." I cross my arms and slump over the table, and he stares sadly at his food.

"I'm sorry I was saying that stuff," he says, and on instinct I place a hand on his shoulder.

"It's whatever, I guess. People can think what they want." There is another moment of silence as he pokes at his sandwich, and I stare blankly at the table. My head is full of the chatter of students all around us, and all I can think about is what Kenny said…

"Do you think I should break up with her?" Kyle looks up at me, a look of surprise on his face. I turn to face him; he hasn't answered. "You can answer that, you know."

"Of course I think you should. That's a silly question to ask me." I should have expected that.

"But, why?" The same look of surprise has returned to his face, this time accompanied by a blush.

"…I have my reasons," he says finally. "The first one being she sucks up all your spare time, and it would be nice to spend as much time together during our last year here." I think about this, and silently agree.

"Kenny thinks I should break up with her, too." I have his full attention with this, and he looks at me with an eyebrow raised.

"Why does he think so?" I sigh and stuff my hands in my pockets.

"He said that if I sleep with the only girl I've ever dated, I will end up marrying her," I tell him, though it seems to have been at the wrong moment, because he suddenly inhales the water he was drinking and begins choking on it. "Shit! Are you okay?"

"Sleep with her?" he exclaims when he is finally able to talk. "Who the fuck said anything about sex!"

"Why is everyone reacting this way about it?" I say exasperatedly. "Of course I want to have sex with her!" This may have been the wrong thing to say to Kyle, however, because he suddenly has a murderous look in his eyes. He stands slowly from his seat, and turns to the doors.

"I'll be right back. I have to find Kenny…" he says darkly, and leaves.

"Kyle, wait! What about our time together…?" I yell after him, but it's no use; he's already gone. With a heavy sigh, I shove my face into my hands and think over why on earth Kyle would be so angry at Kenny. Things are starting to get fishy…

* * *

(Cartman's POV)

Fucking debate class. This whole class-during-lunch is such bull crap, it's not even funny. And since it's random, I didn't pack a lunch today, planning on buying from the cafeteria. I'm fucking starving, and the teacher isn't even here yet. I should just ditch—no one will ever know I'm gone. Except maybe—

"Hey Cartman."

Wendy. Ugh…

"Hey, Ho," I reply, annoyed. She sits next to me, and I glance over at her. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you sitting here? Shouldn't you be in the front, since you're so into this hippie shit?"

"Well I could go sit up front, next to people I don't know, and not share my lunch with you…" she trails off, and my stomach growls on cue. God damn it…

"Fine," I grumble. "You can stay… But I don't need your pity, woman. I'm going to ditch and go buy food. Just tell the teacher that I'm absent today."

"I'm not going to lie for you, Cartman," she says crossly. "You're in here for punishment, aren't you?" I glare at her.

Rather than reply to her guilt trips, I cross my arms and stare daggers into the white board. She sighs and turns to rifle through her bag, and throws something onto my desk—a bag of chips. I glare at her again.

"Why the hell are you being so nice to me if you hate me?" I ask as I open the bag. She sighs again.

"Trust me, I'm not being nice to you. I'm doing this for my own good. I don't like being in class with people I don't know, and I figure if I want to get out of here with my sanity intact I ought to feed you. You're probably even more of an ass when you're hungry."

I shove a chip into my mouth and chew loudly. I can tell it's getting on her nerves, and I grin to myself.

"You're such a bitch."

She grins, and flips me off.

* * *

(Kenny's POV)

I have learned to seriously hate Tuesdays and Thursdays—the band likes to practice for two hours after school before they let us go home. It's not _terrible_ that I don't get to go home right away; I mean, who wants to rush home to a broken family? But it always sucks to have your free time sucked up.

Today's practice seemed particularly demanding, since we have our first show coming up. Because of these demanding practices lately, I have yet to pick out my first date. This is going to set me back big time…

As practice ends, the band gathers around the director for the obligatory end-of-practice speech. I tune it out, staring at the sky, when a cute brunette catches my eye… and she's holding a color guard flag. I side step over to her, making sure to puff out my chest to emphasize the snare drum hanging from my shoulders.

"Nice flag," I say, and she looks over at me and smiles. I smile back.

"Nice drum," she replies, and I pat it proudly.

"Thanks. I just started this year, but I think I'm catching on real quick. Besides, I'm quite a talent when it comes to banging things," I add slyly, hoping she doesn't pick up on the dirty joke. She giggles.

"My name's Amy," she says. I hold out my hand and smile.

"Kenny." She gingerly shakes my hand, and smiles shyly.

"What inclined you to join?" she asks, but before I can answer the director has ended the speech—the signal that we all get to go home.

"Looks like we'll have to finish this conversation another time. God a phone number?" I ask, and she quickly pulls her phone out of her pocket. We exchange numbers, and after a brief good-bye, we go our separate ways.

Once she's out of eyeshot, I pull my phone out again and begin a text message.

_got plans Sat nite?_

Within a minute, my phone is buzzing in my pocket.

_Amy: i do now :)_

Score.

* * *

(Kyle's POV)

It's about five o'clock, and Stan, Cartman and I are in my living room playing video games. We're in the middle of a very heated round of Halo when there is a pounding on the door. Too involved in our game, I yell for someone else to get it.

"Ike! Get the door!"

No response.

"Ike, you little bastard! Get the door!"

"Kyle! You watch your mouth, young man, and don't talk to your brother that way!" my mother scolds as she crosses the room. She opens the door. "Well hello, Kenny. The boys are in here playing video games."

"Thanks Mrs. Broflovski," I hear Kenny say, and then suddenly he was in the room, bouncing around frantically.

"Dude, what the hell! Calm down," Stan says, not once looking away from the TV screen.

"Fuck that! You guys, I need to borrow one of your cars on Saturday!" he exclaims, and we all frown.

"Kenny, there is no way in hell I am ever letting you touch my awesome Mustang," Cartman says immediately, smashing all hopes that Kenny could ever drive his car. "You'll probably pawn it off somewhere for big bucks."

"Your car is worth crap, Fat Ass! It's just stock, it's nothing special!" I say, and he knees me in the back.

"Shut up you Jew asshole! At least mine is a decent looking car and not a piece of shit!"

"I don't care what the car looks like you guys, I just need one!" Kenny insists, still hopping around the room as if he were about to pee his pants. "What about you Stan?"

"Uhh, no can do, dude. I have a date with Wendy on Saturday, and I kind of need it." Kenny and I both scowl at this.

"Damn it! Kyle…?" I glance up at him for a moment; he's looking at me with eyes that read _'you owe me this!'_. Man, I knew he was going to pull this crap. I let out a sigh and give in silently.

"Fine. You can borrow my car." He bounces up and down with glee.

"YES! I love you, man!" he exclaims, and dives onto me to give me a hug. "You probably just got me laid this weekend!"

"What! Weak, dude!" I say as I push him off of me. I catch Stan glancing over at us, an odd look on his face. But my attention is quickly drawn back to Kenny, who is still losing his mind.

"That's not weak, that's awesome! Don't you remember how I said I was going to try and sleep with as many girls as I could before we graduate? I just got a date with my first one! This is awesome! I should make some sort of tally—"

"Whatever, just don't have sex in my car! That's totally gross!" I demand, and he gives me a wry smile.

"No promises~!" I roll my eyes at this. Since the game was shot to hell when Kenny showed up, I decide I might as well take the time to show him how to drive it—it is a stick shift, after all—and also ask him about the things he talked to Stan about this morning.

"Come on then, let me show you how it works," I tell him as I grab my keys off the kitchen table.

He excitedly follows me to the garage, and once I've opened the garage door and we're both in the car, my mood changes.

"What the hell happened this morning?" I inquire angrily. He's taken aback by my mood swing.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, genuinely confused.

"You talked to Stan finally, didn't you?"

"Oh, about that…" he begins. "I haven't been sure what to ask him or talk to him about all week, so I finally just asked him why he's with Wendy. I figured knowing why he chose to be with her might help you in some way."

"Okay, that's fine and all, but why would he tell me that _you_ said she was a whore?"

"Because I said that's what I've heard! And I have heard it, I wasn't lying." All the blood leaves my face.

"Oh crap…"

"What's wrong?" he asks, and I can feel my palms getting clammy.

"I started those rumors at the beginning of the school year… I didn't know they would spread so quickly!" Kenny is silent for a moment, and then starts to laugh.

"Don't worry about it! The people I heard it from aren't very credible. I don't think they'll spread much farther." I sigh in relief.

"But besides that, he also said something about you telling him that he shouldn't sleep with just one girl. Why would you tell him _anything_ about sleeping with girls?" I raise my voice, and he scrunches his face in guilt.

"Sorry dude, I think I got side-tracked in my mission. When he started talking about having sex with Wendy, I went into Kenny-mode and tried to persuade him to dump her and pursue other crushes he's had. I won't let any of my friends sleep with just one woman in their lives!"

"Other… crushes?" I repeat, and I feel my heart kick into overdrive.

"Yeah, I asked him if he's ever liked anyone other than Wendy, and he said he has," he informs me, and my heart beats faster.

"Kenny… Do you know what this means?" I mutter, and Kenny looks at me oddly.

"No, what?"

"Stan is my best friend… He tells me everything… He's told me about every time he's ever liked Wendy in the past, but he's never mentioned ever liking anyone else… I'm sure he would, if he did…"

"What are you getting at?" Kenny says dryly, already knowing where I'm going with my ramble.

"If Stan has liked someone other than Wendy, but has never told me about them, then… it could be me…" I feel numb all over from admitting it out loud. My mind is racing trying to figure out what to do next with this information.

"Kyle, no. You're jumping to conclusions again. What if they're just little, insignificant crushes? I'm sure he wouldn't bother telling you about those, they're silly. Or what if, because he's a horny teenage boy, he has had recent crushes on hot girls on campus while he's been with Wendy? And he hasn't been able to tell you about them because you guys hardly see each other?" he explains, but I'm not hearing it. When he realizes this, he grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. "Kyle, he told me today that he chose Wendy because he cares about her, and he thinks he'll get to have sex with her. He wants to lose his virginity before we graduate. I know you think you're right, but I don't want you to act on what I've told you. Whether you're wrong or right, you can't cheat a guy out of his first time."

"But… It's not fair…" I mutter, and lean back into the car seat. "How am I supposed to go back in there and face them, knowing what I do? He's going to know something's up…"

"Then just put on your best mask. You can't give him a reason to get suspicious, because then you'll just spill the beans."

"Yeah, you're right… Thanks, Kenny," I tell him quietly, as I try to get all my sulking out now. He smiles brightly at me.

"No problem, dude. Now, show me how to drive this thing. I heard stick shift is a toughie."


	7. September 22

Misery Business 

Written by: Spirit-the-Titan

Fandom: South Park

Pairings: Stan/Wendy, eventual Stan/Kyle

September 22

(Kyle's POV)

"Alright class, I hope you all brought your cameras today. I'd like for you all to get started on your projects by going around campus and taking pictures that best fit into the criteria. Anyone who forgot their camera or film, come see me and I'll see what I can do," Ms. Kemp explains. Finally, photo has gotten more interesting. I was about to have a heart attack when I thought the whole class would be lectures about photography, given that the first five weeks of school were nothing but.

I grab my camera case from the back of my chair and follow my fellow classmates as we head out the door. Considering that the first project is supposed to represent our daily lives, finding decent things to take pictures of shouldn't be a problem.

After loading my camera and make sure it's on the right settings, I wander out the front entrance of the school, where a few other students are. I look around, trying to find something to shoot. Damn, this might be a little more difficult than I anticipated…

Finally, I decide to take a picture of the school sign. That should be literal enough… I lay flat on my stomach and angle my camera upwards, to get an interesting angle. I take a couple pictures and review them. Not bad, I guess.

Right as I'm about to snap some more, I notice someone with their camera pointed towards me out of the corner of my eye. I glance over just a bit… It's a cute blonde girl. Wait a minute… she looks familiar…

We've caught each other's eyes, and she starts to walk over to me. As I push myself off of the ground, I realize who it is: Annie Polk.

"Hey Kyle," she greets me when she's closer. I can't help but grin ear to ear; I feel like I haven't seen her in ages.

"Hey Annie," I reply, and then I feel embarrassed… "Please don't tell me you're in the same class as I am, and I haven't noticed…" She laughs.

"No, silly! I'm in Photo 3. Photography is kind of my thing," she explains, and I let out a sigh of relief.

"That's cool. Hey uh, were you taking a picture of me?" I ask, a little shyly. She blushes a little, but giggles.

"Yeah, I hope you don't mind. We have a project where we're supposed to study anatomy through photography. You were the only one out here who was doing anything interesting, so I went for it." I grin at my unknown helpfulness.

We stand there for a minute, and I can't help but feel… content. I haven't seen Annie since we had a class together Freshman year, and I saw her frequently because that was the last time Stan dated Wendy. I remember having a crush on her that year, too… It's strange, but I think maybe my feelings for her might still be in there somewhere, under all this bullshit with Stan…

"So I haven't seen you in a long time, you wanna hang out sometime?" she asks, and I'm a little taken aback by her bold move.

"Sure. You know, Kenny joined the band. He has his first show tonight, and we're all going. Maybe you can come with us? I'm sure Wendy will be there too, since she and Stan are back together," I offer, and she smiles brightly.

"That would be great! I don't know if I have a ride, though. Where is it?"

"Don't worry about it, I can pick you up. You still have my number?" I sure hope she does, because I don't want to admit that I erased her from mine…

"Yep! I never delete my contacts."

"Cool. The show starts around six, so just text me when you're ready and I will come get you." I'm a little shocked at how excited I am about this.

"Sounds great! Well, I better get back to class, I think the bell's going to ring. I'll see you tonight," she says sweetly, and runs back into the building. I watch her go, and stand there for another minute. Oh crap, I should get back to class, too.

* * *

I somehow always manage to beat Stan to the parking lot. Probably because he and Wendy are sucking face somewhere… Now that's a grotesque thought. I find my little red car parked in the back of the lot, and click it open when I'm in range. Just as I open the back door to throw my things inside, I see Stan running towards me.

"Kyle!" he yells, panting heavily. He stops when he reaches the car to catch his breath. I grin sadistically at his franticness, and slam the door shut.

"Dude, what's the rush?" I ask, still smiling.

"I thought you were going to leave without me! Wendy didn't want to let me go, but she didn't know you were taking me home today. I ran here just in case!" he explains between gasps of air.

"I wasn't going to leave without you," I say, and roll my eyes as he continues to drag out his 'I-just-ran-so-far' charade. "Come on Stan, you weren't even running that hard."

"No, but it was far!"

"Psh, I thought you were an athlete." He ignores my comment and gets into the passenger seat.

"Whatever. You try running from the back of the school all the way to the back of the parking lot when you think you're going to be left behind," he retorts, but I'm over the conversation.

We pull out of the stall and drive to the exit of the parking lot, but there's a line of cars to get out. I'm not surprised; it is a Friday, and we're actually leaving earlier than we do whenever Stan drives. Since he doesn't care about leaving a little later, the school traffic is usually cleared up before we head home.

My thoughts drift to tonight, and what I imagine will happen. I'm not sure what to expect with the band, seeing as how I've never seen a marching band perform on a football field, but Kenny says it will be good. I think about not telling Stan that I invited Annie, and wait to see the look on his face when we show up together, but I decide against it.

"So guess who I invited tonight?" I say, and he looks at me with a confused expression.

"Who?"

"Annie Polk. I ran into her before school got out." He looks even more confused now.

"Really? That's kind of random. Why would you invite her?"

"Well, she suggested we hang out since we haven't seen each other in years, and I just invited her," I explain. I catch a sly grin form on his face.

"Didn't you have a huge crush on her Freshman year?" he asks with a sly tone to match his smile. Oh no… I think I know where he's heading with this…

"Er… yeah, why?"

"Dude! You should totally ask her out! She's really cute, and she's friends with Wendy! I bet she could help set you guys up! Then we could go on double dates and stuff!"

"Dude, no. I'm not going to date her. I mean, I don't even know if I still like her…" This is bad. I can't have Stan getting excited to hook me up with a girl when all I want is to be with him.

"Well then use tonight to find out! What if you do? Will you let us set you guys up?" he asks eagerly, and my heart sinks at how excited he's getting about this…

"I guess," I agree, though I have no plans of letting it happen.

Luckily we're at Stan's house now, and I can kick him out of my car before he can go on about double dates again. He waves, and I tell him I'll see him later. When I get to my house, I rush inside and pull out my phone to call Kenny. It rings a couple times, and he picks up right when I'm securely in my bedroom.

"Sup?"

"Hey Kenny, I have an emergency," I say, using more urgent words than are necessary.

"Oh Christ, what the hell did you do?"

"It's nothing too serious, I just need your opinion. Remember Annie?" He's quiet for a brief second, thinking.

"Yeah, Wendy's cute blonde friend, right?"

"Yeah, her. I kind of invited her to the review tonight."

"What? Why?"

"Doesn't matter. Basically what's going on is I used to like her a few years ago, and now Stan wants to set us up so we can go on double dates with him and Wendy," I explain quickly. Maybe too quickly…

"Hold on, what? You like her? What about Stan? Oh god, PLEASE tell me you're over him!" I grumble at his misunderstood reaction.

"No, you asshole, I still like Stan! I don't know if I still like Annie, but Stan's getting a couple's boner over the thought that I might, and wants Wendy to set us up if I do!" He sighs heavily, probably because I'm asking him for more Stan advice.

"You know this shit isn't my specialty," he says remorsefully.

"Yeah I know, but all I need to know is what you think I should do? I mean, what if I _do_ like Annie?"

"That's the easiest thing you've asked me in months. Dude, if you like her, then fucking _date_ her so you can get over Stan. And then the two of you can fall in love and get married, and have a bunch of cute little curly-haired babies, and your man-crush will never resurface again because you will be too wrapped up in providing for your family. Problem solved."

I'm quiet for a moment as I think about this. It really is that easy. And I don't want to admit it, but if I think I can fall for Annie, then I don't have to worry about Stan…

"Dude, you still there?" Kenny asks after a minute.

"Yeah… You're right Kenny, I guess that's my best option…" I agree reluctantly, and sigh in defeat.

"_Thank god_," he says exasperatedly. I'm sad that he's so relieved about my decision, but I guess it really is for the best. "You are doing yourself a huge favor, you don't even know."

"I hope you're right, Kenny…" I hear a faint giggle in the background, and then a shush from Kenny. "Are… Are you with a girl?" I ask him.

"Um…yes," he says sheepishly. I'm a little embarrassed that she overheard our conversation.

"Well have you banged her yet?"

"Who?"

"That Amy chick you were with last weekend."

"Pfft, no, this is Kristy. That ship already sailed," he answers in code, but I understand. Oh Kenny, you are such a man-whore.

"Damn, you sure get around fast. Well I guess I'll let you go then, seeing that you're probably doing some 'warming up' before your big show."

"Cool, thanks man."

"See ya."

I flop back onto my bed and ponder my options. If I decide I like Annie, I told Kenny I would go for it in an attempt to get over Stan. It really does seem fool-proof, unless we get together and my feelings for Stan stick around. I couldn't do that to her… Or there's the possibility that my feelings for Stan overpower any I might have for Annie, and I wind up getting nowhere… This is all so complicated.

Lucky for me, I know just the person to help with complicated matters.

"Ike?" I call as I lightly knock on his door. I fidget around with my hands as I wait, nervous about having to go to my little brother for help with my relationship issues. Seconds later, he opens the door.

"Yeah?"

"Uh… I need your advice on something…" I get out, and he stares at me as he waits for my question. "Can I come in?"

He opens his bedroom door wide enough to let me in, and I immediately walk across the room to sit on his bed. It's funny, looking around, that his room is decorated nothing like mine was when I was twelve years old; his is covered in posters you might find in a classroom. But my attention is drawn back to him when he sits next to me on the bed, and the look in his eyes makes me think that he knows this is a serious matter.

"I know you don't really have any experience in relationships, but I know you're good with dishing out advice. And I'm in quite a difficult situation…" I fidget more with my hands as I stare at the floor.

"Well what is the situation?"

"There's this person that I've liked for a really long time, and I can't seem to get over them. I thought they liked me back, but now they're with someone else… And despite that, my feelings are still there. But there's someone else I might like, and I think that if I give in to those feelings, then I can get over the first crush and move on, but I don't know if I can…"

He's silent for a moment as he thinks about it, taking all aspects into consideration. When he finally speaks, my heart skips a beat.

"I think you care about that first person so deeply, that by forcing yourself to like someone else will only hurt everyone involved. From the way you described the situation, you seem reluctant to let go of the feelings you have, and I'm sure rebounding won't change this," he concludes, and I still feel like we've gotten nowhere.

"So… What should I do?"

"Wait it out. If the two of you are meant to be together, then things will work out in your favor. If not, then your feelings should go away in time." I sigh heavily.

"Thanks, Ike, but that's already what I've been doing…" He places his small hand on my shoulder for comfort.

"Then you didn't need my advice at all," he says reassuringly, and smiles. But before I can say anything, I feel my pocket vibrating. I pull out my phone and read my text.

_Unknown Number: hey kyle, i'm ready! :)_

Perfect, now I have Annie's number in my phone again. I swiftly twist around when I catch Ike trying to sneak a peek at the text, and reply.

_Awesome, on my way! I will be there in a few :)_

"Who was that?" Ike asks as I leave the room. I smile.

"It's no one… At least, not anymore," I tell him, and he fully understands. He gives me a thumbs-up as I walk out the door.

* * *

(Stan's POV)

I find myself in a somewhat crowded parking lot at the North Park High stadium, where Kenny's band thing is. I lock the truck as I head towards the ticket booth, and scan the area for Kyle. I don't see him anywhere yet… Maybe I should text him, in case he hasn't left yet.

_dude were R U?_

Then I remember he's bringing Annie. I feel a pang in my chest; didn't he want to spend time with just me? He's always complaining about that… And now that I think about it, I really ought to try and make more time for the two of us. I would hate for there to be a repeat of Labor Day… But maybe he thinks I'm bringing Wendy. That would make sense, because knowing him, he would ditch even Kenny to hang out just the two of us. At least, I think he would…

My pocket vibrates, and I open my phone.

_Kyle: Your grammar is horrible. I'm right behind you :)_

On instinct, I turn around to see if I can spot his curly auburn hair. But… I don't see him. And then my phone vibrates again.

_Kyle: You looked, didn't you? XD_

I can't help but smile at his lame prank.

_yes i did, you ass_

"Glad to see you're starting to use some decent grammar," I hear a familiar voice call a moment later, and I turn again. Kyle's there this time, accompanied by a cute blonde girl.

"Hey guys," I greet, and meet them half way.

"Hi Stan!" Annie says, and then she looks puzzled. "Where's Wendy?"

"She couldn't make it. She said she had a load of homework," I explain, and Kyle sighs and rolls his eyes. It looks like I was right.

"Well that's okay, we can have fun just the three of us!" she says cheerfully.

"Let's get our tickets before all the good seats are taken," Kyle says, and leads the way. Even if I want him to get together with Annie, I would give anything for her not to be here right now.

Between the three of us, it cost $15 to get in, and that was with Kenny's 'friend discount'. We wormed our way through the crowded walkways, and find that most of the front row seats are empty. We grabbed our seats and sat through a few shows—learning the hard way that the front row seats are not the best to see the formations—before our band was on. I try to spot Kenny, but everyone looks alike.

I don't pay much attention to the show, since we established that we can't see anything important anyway, but I watch Kyle and Annie from the corner of my eye. They're chatting animatedly, making a silly game of finding Kenny. I really wish Wendy were here, so she could distract me… Or Annie.

When I stop hearing music, I turn my attention back to the field. It's over, and the band is now retreating back to… wherever they came from. In the middle of the lineup I see a hand waving frantically—it's Kenny. I smile and wave back.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick," I hear Annie tell Kyle. As soon as she's gone, I scoot right next to him.

"Dude, you totally like her," I tell him, and he blushes.

"I do not! Why would you think that?"

"You guys are all chummy and stuff. Even if you don't like her, she definitely likes you."

"So?"

"So hook up with her so we can go on double dates and stuff!" He frowns.

"Is that all you care about? Dude, you know if we went on a double date with those two, it would be them talking and us talking." Well, he has a point there…

"But come on, if you date Annie, then you will by default get to spend more time with me. They are friends, after all," I offer, and he looks like he's thinking about it.

"I can't do that, Stan. I can't ask her to be my girlfriend if I don't want her to be…" He's hiding something, I can tell.

"But… Why are you so against it? You've barely given her a chance."

"Why are you being so pushy about it? If I don't want to date her, then I don't want to date her."

Defeated, I rest my elbows on my knees to prop my head up, and stare blankly at the field. Kyle readjusts himself too, and our knees touch. I think we both notice, but… neither of us move.

"Can I tell you something?" I ask, and his face lights up.

"Go for it."

"I kinda wish Annie wasn't here tonight," I admit, and I see him smile. I wasn't exactly expecting such a happy reaction.

"Me, too. We don't even have Cartman with us; this would have been perfect." I'm not sure what his definition of 'perfect' is, but I silently agree.

We sit there in silence as we watch the next band begin to set up on the field, still barely touching. My face heats up a little… And then when we hear Annie come back, we both jump. We're like a couple of guilty kids.

"There was a huge line… I think most of them were band kids," she explains her long absence, but neither of us reply. I stare at the field, but I catch Kyle glimpse at me.

There are only a few more bands to perform, and when it's all over everyone crowds towards the exits. It takes us a while, but eventually we get to the parking lot and find the area with all the buses. After ten minutes of searching and plenty of "where are you?' texts to Kenny, we find the bus that he's on. He's not able to get off, so he lets down his window to talk to us.

"Hey guys, how was the show?" he asks. He looks sweaty and exhausted. Was it really that much work?

"It was pretty cool. We were trying to find out which one was you the whole time," Kyle replies.

"Haha, I barely caught any of it. Why didn't you tell us those were the worst seats in the house?" I ask him, and he grins.

"Hell if I knew, I've never been to one of these things."

Before any of us could reply, a cute girl dives onto Kenny from the next seat and hugs him. Kenny seems a little shocked by the sudden affection, and sweet-talks her into leaving him alone for the moment. Kyle is snickering next to me.

"Is that Kristy?" he asks. Kenny rolls his eyes.

"No way dude. I already fucked her. Check it out," he starts, and leans outside the window a little so no one inside the bus can hear. "I'm getting so popular in the band, I'm attracting even the non-color guard chicks! Up top!" He concludes his observation by throwing his hand out the window, waiting for me and Kyle to high-five him in his 'triumph'. In order to keep him from whining, we both oblige.

"You are such a slut, Kenny," I tell him, and he smiles widely.

"Well it looks like we're about to head off. I'll see you guys later," he says, and we wave as he closes the window. Moments later, the buses all start pulling out of the lot, just as we make our way to ours.

"You're able to take me home, right?" Annie asks Kyle.

"Of course. It would be dumb if I wasn't."

I walk slightly behind them, feeling like a third wheel. I wonder if this is how Kyle feels when Wendy's around… I'm sure it is. Damn, it sucks. I'm going to have to make it up to him. I hear Annie say something about it being a bit cold and on cue, Kyle wraps his arm around her. It's hesitant, but he did it. Come on, Kyle, just get together with her. Then we can be together all the time…

"Where are you parked?" Kyle asks, turned around in front of me.

"Um, I think it's the next row." We've stopped walking.

"We're parked down here," he says, fishing for his keys in his pocket. Annie is still under his arm.

"Well I guess I'll see you tomorrow or something," I tell him, and he nods.

"Sounds good. I'll text you."

"See ya, dude."

"Bye."

I continue the walk alone to my car and sigh. Even if I'm pushing Kyle to get together with Annie, I'm still hesitant. It's rare that Kyle has a girlfriend, and I always seem to get pushed aside when he does. I can't pretend I don't know that's what I do to him when I'm with Wendy, but I don't like it. But if he dates one of Wendy's friends, then we will get to spend more time together at school, without anyone getting upset…

If I wasn't such a damn people-pleaser, I could just put my own selfish needs first.

And I only have one…


	8. October 4

Misery Business

Written by: Spirit-the-Titan and Jupiter52987

Fandom: South Park

Pairings: Stan/Wendy, eventual Stan/Kyle

October 4

(Kyle's POV)

I'm sitting in History, pulling my textbook and binder out of my backpack, wondering where on God's green earth Kenny could be. The bell rang to start class... over ten minutes ago. I roll my eyes and drop my supplies on my desk. He can't be this late as much as he is all the time, because he's going to get himself suspended.

"Kyle, where's Kenny?" Mr. Garver asks me, and I sigh.

"I would love to know the same thing..." I mumble, and no sooner do the words leave my mouth does Kenny barge in the door. He looks as though he was running frantically to get to class, but I know it's all a charade.

"McCormick! Why the hell are you late to my class _again_?" Garver booms, and Kenny throws his hands up in defense.

"Sorry, sir! I've told you before, my locker is on the other side of campus, and 10 minutes is certainly not enough time as a passing period for me to take care of my IBS between classes!" he pants, and Garver rolls his eyes.

"What is IBS?" he challenges, and Kenny looks embarrassed. He frantically walks over to the teacher and whispers something in his ear. Garver's expression becomes a little flustered. "McCormick, that's disgusting. Go sit down."

Kenny is grinning ear to ear when he takes his seat next to me.

"Irritable bowel syndrome? Really?" I mock him when he's sitting down. "You couldn't come up with anything more believable?"

"Trust me, I just bought myself a ticket to be late and get out of class briefly whenever I want," he says smugly. "It's going to be awesome."

"So where were you really, then?" He turns to smirk his signature smirk at me, and I know the answer before the words leave his mouth.

"Oh, I was in the bathroom. But it was nothing related to irritable bowels... And I wasn't alone," he chimes, and winks at me.

"What does that make your tally by this point?" I dare to ask, deciding silently that it's somewhere between 13 and 20.

"Eight, I think?" he answers, pondering his sexual encounters. I sigh exasperatedly.

"Kenny, that's gross. You're probably getting all kinds of STDs and passing them on to all these poor, unsuspecting girls."

"And it will all be worth it," he retorts, smirk back in place. He is leaned back in his chair and reminiscing on every experience.

I quickly start to scribble in the binder in front of me when Mr. Garver turns around to look at us, making it look like I've been paying attention the whole time. And I certainly would have been, did I not already know that Egyptian pharos were big assholes. When he turns back to face the whiteboard, Kenny quickly turns to face me.

"So, how are things with Annie?" he asks rather excitedly. Oh man, here we go again.

"Fine, why?" I reply dryly. I know exactly where this is leading.

"Stan said you guys hung out again last weekend. So when are you gonna do it?"

"Do what?" I ask with caution. 'Do it' in Kenny language could mean a great number of things.

"Make it official! That's like, what, the third date you guys have been on?"

"Kenny, we've already gone over this... I have no intention of asking her out."

"Well I hope she knows this, because it kind of looks like you're leading her on," he informs me, and I feel a pang of guilt in my chest.

"I-I am not... I couldn't do that to her, she's sweet..." I mumble to myself, and Kenny throws his arm around my shoulders.

"All the more reason to just go for it. If not to get over ...you-know-who, then at least to distract yourself from it for a while." I sigh again and roll my eyes.

"Kenny, I don't want to use her, either." And then, he quickly removes his arm.

"Fine then, be miserable. But don't come crying to me when you are upset because nothing is going your way. I've offered suggestions," he threatens, and I slump over in my chair, face on my desk. I'm silent for a brief second, contemplating is ultimatum.

"Damnit, Kenny..." I say, defeated. I hate it when he is right...

"Yes! Good choice, bro. You know what? You don't even have to label it. Just kinda... act like a couple, you know? But never call her your girlfriend."

"And when she asks what we are?" I ask, tilting my face from my desk just slightly enough to glare at him.

"We will get to that problem when it happens."

* * *

(Kenny's POV)

Another long day of practice... Fucking band director increased every day to long practices, since our marching season is almost over and championships are coming up. I have decided I don't give a shit about any of this, and I'm only sucking up for the rest of the season because I want to reach my goal.

We are called to attention after a run-through, and then we have a water break. Thank god... I take this opportunity to approach one of the guard girls I have been sweet-talking for a couple weeks.

"Kenny, you're so bad!" she giggles, gently hitting my shoulder. I've been flashing her my trademark grin the whole time, causing her to blush.

"I will be as bad as you want, baby," I tell her smoothly, playing it off as a joke. She is still giggling. Before I can try to sweet talk her some more, though, another girl catches my attention.

She's staring right at me, with a very familiar look on her face. I can't let this opportunity slip by.

"Hang on a sec, Amber, I need to go talk to someone..." I tell her as I walk off. I hear her try to regain my attention, but I'm not listening.

I am fixated on this girl. I can tell she's a band member, the French horn in her hands is a dead giveaway. Her long, curly brown hair and slender build are enough to make me crazy. The look she's giving me tells me I might get the chance to let her make me crazy. I flash my grin when I approach her, and she smiles at me.

"Hi, Kenny," she says, voice sultry.

"Hey, uh... I'm sorry, I don't think I know your name..." I admit, and I feel like my chances may be shot. But she smiles and offers her hand.

"Lizzy," she says, and I take her hand and kiss it. She giggles a little. "You're just as smooth as I've heard."

"What have you heard?" I ask, hoping that it's nothing bad. She looks like she's thinking about this, and tugs at my arm to have me follow her away from listening ears. We walk a short distance from the group of bandos when she stops and turns to me, that seductive look back in her eyes.

"I know you've been making your way around the band..." she starts, and my heart skips. I'm nervous that she may be trying to expose me for the slut I am, so I play it off.

"And what does that make you in this situation, the sexy vigilante out to bring justice to the girls?" I offer, and she smiles wider.

"Not exactly. I have a... favor... to ask you," she says softly, and I know exactly what she's talking about. She reaches over and touches my arm, sliding her hand down until she's holding my hand, and she takes a step closer to me until we're only inches apart.

"Just tell me the time and place, baby, and I'm there..." I whisper. My heart is pounding with excitement.

"How about... tonight? After practice?"

"I think I can arrange that..." I tell her. I know that Kyle should still be on campus when practice is over, I shouldn't have any trouble convincing him to take us to my place.

"Sounds good," she says, just as the director calls us back to practice.

* * *

(Stan's POV)

Currently parked in Wendy's driveway, making out with her from the passenger seat of my truck. We have been sitting here for about 20 minutes, making out, since we got here after school. It's amazing, and a nice change of pace from her trying to be touchy in public, but I'm trying to find a way to intervene and slip away. I have plans with Kyle soon, and it's becoming rather difficult to manage my time between the two without anyone getting upset.

I find my opportunity when Wendy pulls away and grabs her things from the floor.

"My parents aren't home for another hour, wanna come up instead of fooling around in your cramped car...?" she offers, her voice dripping with desire. It's almost impossible to resist, but I know I have other obligations.

"I'd love to, but... I have plans with Kyle soon..." I admit, worried of how she will react. The look on her face is only a prelude.

"But Stan, I thought you said that any opportunity we have to spend when our parents are out, you would spend it with me because of your aversion to PDA..." she complained, but the look in her eyes wasn't hurt, it was anger.

"Please don't be upset, Wendy, I'm trying the best I can to juggle time to spend between the two of you..." I try to reason, and she scoffs and crosses her arms. Here we go...

"You spend all of your time with him, Stan! I usually only get to hang out with you at lunch or the rare occasion that you aren't with Kyle," she growls.

"Look Wendy, I'm sorry... But I figured that since I might not get to see him much after the school year, you would understand..." I paused, contemplating on saying the next part of my sentence. "...Considering that we will probably be spending the rest of our lives together..." I swallow hard, and she looks over at me from her pout, a curious look in her eyes.

"Are you proposing to me, Stan?" she asks cautiously. A grin has creeped its way onto her features. Oh no, what am I getting myself into? Kenny was totally right...

"Well, not exactly, but given our history, that's the most likely outcome." The lustful look has returned to her eyes, and she crawls partially onto me from her seat.

"Oh Stan... I didn't know you had intentions to stick around forever..." she says softly, and kisses me slowly on the mouth. She pulls away only slightly and whispers in my ear, "Come on, future husband, come upstairs with me... I'll make it worth your while..."

Her hand is sliding slowly down my chest towards my pants... I know she won't have any intention of going all the way if I follow her, but I know any step closer is closer to me getting to score.

"I don't think Kyle will be too upset if I'm just a little late..." I tell her, breathing in her scent. She quickly pulls away, her face beaming. She grabs her things and rushes out the door.

Before I follow her, I make sure to send an apology text to Kyle.

_Sry dude, im gonna b a little l8... Wendy wants me 2 stay a bit longer..._

I hope he understands...

* * *

(Kenny's POV, pt. II)

"Kyle!" I see him turn his head as he gets into his car, an amused expression on his face as he watches me and a girl he doesn't know running up to him.

"Kenny, what the hell are you doing?" he asks flatly, as if he knows I'm about to mix him up in one of my shenanigans. "Don't tell me you need a ride to some secure location because you just did something stupid and probably illegal on campus."

We slow to a halt in front of him and bend over panting. It probably didn't help that we were already sweaty from band practice. How do you even get sweaty when it's under fifty degrees anyway? I can even see my breath as I pant.

"No dude, it's nothing like that," I explain between gasps. "We just need a ride home." He cocks an eyebrow.

"By 'home' you mean your house, don't you?" he asks matter-of-factly.

"Yes, that would be the ideal place."

"Fine, whatever. It's not like it's not on the way or anything. And you could have texted me, you know. I would have waited." His eyes shifted briefly to Lizzy, who was standing rather close to me. "Sorry, I'm Kyle." He holds out a hand for her to shake.

"Lizzy. Thanks for the lift in advance," she says as we get in the car. Kyle starts the engine, and gives me a curious look when I opt to sit in the back seat with Lizzy rather than shotgun.

"That name sounds familiar... Hey wait a minute, did you go to South Park Elementary?" Kyle asks, even though I keep giving him the 'leave us alone' glare.

"I did, only for third grade though." Kyle snapped his fingers in his 'aha!' moment.

"Were you that girl who challenged our gang to a sled race?" he asked loudly, as if to accuse her. Wait a minute, that does seem familiar...

"Yeah, I do recall something like that happening." Kyle waiting until we were at a red light to turn around and glare at her.

"You were calling all of us mean names!" Lizzy blushed and giggled at the memory.

"I was known for being quite a brat when I was little," she fessed with a smile on her face. "My apologies!"

"It's whatever, you gave us more words to add to our horrible vocabularies, so we should be thanking you," Kyle said, and I sighed. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and sent him a quick text.

_stop talkin like ur old frends! shes gonna want 2 stay n chat!_

I noticed he got the text when we stopped at a stop sign, and he quickly replied.

_Kyle: Sorry man, just trying to distract myself._

Soon enough we were at my house, and as soon as we were close enough to being parked, I grabbed my shit, grabbed Lizzy's hand and bolted for the door.

"Thanks for the ride, Kyle!" I yell after us, and I see him wave and give me a thumbs up. We were in the front door before he had even driven off. I was incredibly relieved to find that no one else was home. I throw my backpack on the floor and she does the same, and we're both standing there and staring at each other.

"Can I uh... get you anything?" I ask, a little surprised by my words. Usually, I just get down to business.

"There's only one thing I can think of..." she says softly, those enticing eyes staring at me.

I waste no time and walk up to her, pulling her face into a heated kiss. I back her into the wall, and she slips her tongue into my mouth.

"You know... I've never had a girl... approach me with... intentions of having sex..." I tell her between kisses. She smiles against my lips.

"I don't want to hurt your feelings, but... this is only to get back at my boyfriend..." I pull away and stare at her.

"It's always hotter doing it with a taken woman..." I grin, and pick her up to carry her to my bedroom.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry with the hiatus, everyone! I had writers block on this for sooo long... And when I reviewed my notes for this month in the story, I was able to piece it together very easily! I just needed some time to think, maybe. But anyway, thank you to everyone who supports this story, even when it's on a break! Hopefully more soon~


	9. October 19

Misery Business

Written by: Spirit-the-Titan

Fandom: South Park

Pairings: Stan/Wendy, eventual Stan/Kyle

October 19

(Stan's POV)

It's my 18th birthday today. It doesn't seem as significant as it should... Maybe I will feel more like an adult as the day goes by. Though, on second thought, that seems dumb; you couldn't possibly feel like an adult while at high school.

My morning was only slightly different from my normal routine: get up, shower, get dressed, eat (special birthday pancakes today, courtesy of Mom), and leave for school. Who's 18th birthday is on a Thursday, anyway? No one wants to party on a Thursday. Even Friday would have been better.

I climb into the cab of my truck and get ready to start the engine when I get a text. I decide to open it, just to see who might be wishing me a happy birthday.

_Kyle: Don't leave yet!_

My eyebrow shoots up in curiosity. Did he need a ride? Usually he tells me the night before...

_still here... whats up?_

I receive my answer in the form of Kyle himself speeding around the corner and screeching to a halt in front of my house. Jesus Christ, why is he in such a hurry?

"Dude, what the hell!" I call to him as I get out of my truck. He doesn't get out, but he rolls down the passenger window to talk to me.

"Get in, I'm taking you today!"

I don't think twice about it, and I climb in.

"Happy birthday, by the way," he says after we've taken off. I smirk, knowing that the day has already picked up.

"Thanks. I don't feel any older, though. It kinda sucks."

"Did you get any presents yet?" I sigh at this, remembering my dull morning.

"No, not yet." I grin, and turn to him. "But you can give me yours!"

"Not yet," he laughs. "It's too good to give you right now."

"Aw, then when do I get it?" I whine, playing hurt. I'm really eager to know what it is now!

We drive a few minutes in silence before he decides to answer me. I can see the school approaching, but Kyle isn't slowing down to turn into the parking lot.

"Happy Birthday, Part 1," he says coyly as we drive right past the school. I begin to panic.

"Dude! We can't just skip school! I have a test today!"

"Relax, Stan. There's such a thing as make-up tests," he tells me, more calmly than I expect. This is _Kyle_, skipping _school_! Willingly! I never thought I would see the day. "Besides, there's better things for you do be doing on your 18th birthday than taking a test."

"What else do you have in mind...?" I ask him cautiously. His only answer is a grin.

* * *

After sitting in the car for 45 minutes and watching highway signs pass every once and a while, I'm able to conclude that Kyle is taking me to Denver.

"Why Denver?" I ask him. He's been quiet for a while, apart from singing along to the radio every other song.

"Because there's more to do in Denver for a day than in South Park," he tells me.

I catch a glimpse of his smiling face; he seems really excited. I suppose I can grow a pair and get over the whole idea of ditching-school-for-my-birthday and try to appreciate what my best friend is doing for me on my birthday.

"Well tell me what you're planning for us to do!" I ask excitedly. "I want to know what to look forward to!"

"We're almost there, just wait a few more minutes. Are you hungry?" I think about this for a brief second, and decide that birthday pancakes was enough for another few hours.

"Nah, I wanna get to the good stuff. We can eat later."

"Good, because our first stop is right here," he says, and we pull off the road and into a gas station. Kyle gets out, and motions for me to follow him into the Stop 'n' Shop.

The clerk behind the desk eyeballs us when we walk in, and we do the same to him; he's a large, truck-driver-esque looking guy, and he looks like he knows we shouldn't be in his store. But I continue to follow Kyle to the back of the store. He grabs two slushie cups and turns to me.

"First on our list: Birthday Slushies." He hands me the cup. "I'm paying for everything today, but there's a few things that... _you'll_ have to purchase." I whip my head around to look at him, concerned.

"What the hell does that mean?" He rolls his eyes at me.

"That means I'm gonna give you a $10, and you're gonna buy a pack of cigarettes," he tells me matter-of-factly. "It's mandatory, because you can do it legally now."

"Okay, well stop whispering this to me like we're a couple of kids planning on how to buy alcohol," I say as I fill my cup with frothy goodness. I picked cherry flavor.

"Technically, I still am," he says, filling his cup with whatever flavor the blue slushie is. "And I don't want to get busted."

"What other sorts of things like this are on your list for today?" I ask him as we make our way to the cashier.

"Oh, you have to get a Lotto ticket while you're here, too. That's a no brainer."

The cashier is looking at us suspiciously when we reach his counter, and Kyle fishes his wallet out of his pants.

"I'm getting the two drinks," he tells the man, who wordlessly gives Kyle his $3.75 total from the register. Kyle pays him, and he turns to me when we're still standing at his counter. I sigh. Damnit, Kyle...

"I'll have a pack of Camel's, and... whatever scratcher you think is luckiest." The man continues to stare at me.

"I need to see your ID, son," he growls. He sounds like he's been smoking his entire life. I roll my eyes and pull it out of my wallet.

Without another word, he turns to retrieve the cigarette carton from a locked case, and pulls a scratch-off Lotto ticket from the drawer and places them in front of me. The ticket has little cartoon rabbits and flowers on it; probably the girliest one he could have picked.

"That'll be $15.98," he grumbles, and I hand him the cash that Kyle had given me. He hands me the receipt, and we walk quickly out the door.

"Dude, holy shit. That guy was nuts!" I exclaim, chewing on my slushie straw as we climb in the car.

"I swear I thought he was going to hold us hostage or something," Kyle laughs. He quickly snatches the Lotto ticket and cigarettes from my hand before I can even think about putting them away.

"Dude!"

"Not yet, Stan! We have to get everything together first," he explains, and I sigh. I know there's more planned now.

"What's next, then?" I dare ask. I'm trying my hardest to think of everything one can do once they're 18, because that's clearly the theme here.

"Porn."

"But I have plenty of porn," I remind him, but he shrugs.

"Doesn't matter. Now you can legally buy it, instead of relying on Kenny to give you hand-me-downs."

"That was _one_ instance!"

We must be in a bad part of Denver, because it's a pretty short drive from the gas station to the adult shop. I can't keep the blush from creeping onto my face... This can either go smoothly, or really awkwardly...

I hop out of the car once we park, and quickly turn around when I realize I'm alone.

"Kyle, come on!" I yell. He's still sitting in the car.

"I can't go in!" he mouths through the windshield. He doesn't look like this is bothering him. I grumble, and walk up to the driver's side.

"Then how am I supposed to know what to get?" I ask, watching his face light up in a grin.

"Doesn't matter, get whatever you want. Just make sure to get a magazine too, so we can both look at it."

I glare at him, blush clearly present on my cheeks, and turn to go into the shop. I only have my slushie for company, now.

Entering the adult shop is reminiscent of walking into the Shop 'n' Stop; the guy behind the counter eyeballs me from the moment I walk through the door. If that's not the creepiest thing someone could do in a place like this, I don't know what is.

I try to hide from his judgmental gaze by ducking into an aisle of magazines. I had_ no_ idea there was so much to choose from! Playboy certainly isn't the only thing out there, I now know, and by far the cleanest. I learn this after flipping through an opened, non-Playboy magazine.

I'm getting antsy... Kyle must know how incredibly awkward it is to pick this stuff out by yourself, I doubt they would have carded him just for walking in. And it's not like I can make a wise decision on what I want, because they all have plastic wrap. Probably to keep perverts from jerking off to them in the store.

...Suddenly, the urge to leave is _very_ strong.

After standing around like a dumbass for a few minutes, staring mindlessly at the massive selection of magazines, I pick one at random and head for the counter. I toss it onto the counter and slurp my slushie obnoxiously as I fish for my wallet.

"You picked a good one," the cashier informs me. I try my hardest not to grimace at the fact that a complete stranger is approving my choice in porn.

"Um... That's nice to know," I say awkwardly, and hand him my driver's license. He quickly glances at it and slides it across the counter.

"I would have believed you were 18," he says, grinning. This time, I grimace. He thanks me for my service as I turn to leave.

I could not walk out that door quick enough.

"What's up with you?" Kyle asks as I get in the car and slam the door. I must still have a horrified look on my face.

"This must be the day of the Creepiest Cashiers, because that guy in there was worse than the first," I tell him as he pulls out of the shopping center. He laughs.

"Dude, they must know it's your birthday or something," he kids. I can only mindlessly chew on my straw and stare straight ahead.

"Of course they do, I've had to show them all my ID."

Much like the first two stops, it's not long before we are at our next destination. My heart sinks a little when I catch the sign above the building.

_'Jay's Ink'_.

"Kyle!" I screech, choking on the saliva in my mouth. He looks over at me worriedly, and I pound my chest a little until I stop coughing. "You're making me get a _tattoo_?"

"We've been planning this for years!" he explains, but that doesn't calm my panic.

"But I-I'm not ready!"

"Don't be a pussy, Stan! This should have been the one thing you expected me to make you do today!"

My heart is beating so fast in my chest, I begin to hyperventilate. Kyle notices this, and slaps me upside the head. I freeze and slowly turn to him, a look of confusion and fear on my face.

"Dude, buck up. It can't be that bad. And I'm going to get one on my birthday, too. So you won't be alone."

I sigh heavily. We _did_ discuss this years ago... But I had forgotten. I've always wanted one, but I guess it's just a little overwhelming knowing that I'm not leaving here today without a tattoo. I haven't had time to mentally prepare myself!

"...Alright, I'll do it. Under one condition!" I add quickly, watching his face light up.

"Anything!"

"On your birthday, we're coming to this exact place, and you have to get the exact same tattoo in the exact same place I do, so you know what pain I went through," I demand, and he grins widely and throws his fist in my direction.

"Deal." We bump fists to seal it.

"Well then, I guess... it's tattoo time," I say slowly as we climb out of the car. I can feel my heart thumping in my ears. I notice that I can see my breath as we approach the parlor.

Finally, we are able to walk into a shop and not be greeted by some weirdo. The woman standing behind the counter, albeit covered in tats, is really hot. She smiles widely when we walk in.

"Hey boys, what can I do for you today?"

"It's my friend's birthday, and I'm making him get a tattoo," Kyle tells her before I can even open my mouth. I elbow him for his retardedness. She laughs.

"Well happy birthday, kid. But I'm gonna need some proof."

The simple act of pulling out my wallet today has become so routine, I do it without another thought. I slide my ID across the counter and she picks it up to read carefully.

"Stan, I'm gonna need you to fill out some paperwork before we get started," she says as she hands me my ID, and then hands me a paper on a clipboard. "Just a release form you need to sign, and some contact information in case we need to get ahold of you for any reason."

Kyle follows me to the bench near the door, and we sit down and read the paper. I'm so nervous, I mostly scan through the legal stuff, and quickly scribble my address, phone number and sign the bottom. Kyle pats me on the shoulder and I nearly jump at the touch.

"Congrats, you're one step closer," he teases, and I get up to hand her the clipboard.

"Thanks, hon. Do you know what sort of design you want?" she asks, and I realize I have no idea. Maybe there's a way out of this after all!

"Um, not yet..." I mutter, when Kyle sneaks up behind me.

"Do you have a book of designs?" he asks, and I resist the urge to elbow him again.

"Sure thing," she says, pulling a large binder out from under the counter and handing it to us. "These are mine exclusively, so whatever you pick I can guarantee it will look awesome. I'm Joan, by the way. Just let me know when you're ready."

We find our way back to the bench, and Kyle has already started flipping through the pages.

"I want something small, simple and manly," I tell him as he flips through a series of flowers and birds. He takes note of this by searching the small tabs in the pages to find a section labeled "tribal".

"Manly enough for you?" he teases when he reveals the first designs. Wow, these are actually really cool. I snatch the binder from him to look at them more closely.

"Definitely getting one of these."

He is hovering over my shoulder as I flip each page, annoyingly saying "get that one" to each design.

"Dude, this is a life-changing decision. I'm not going to make my choice haphazardly," I tell him matter-of-factly. He sighs and slumps over in the bench.

"Well hurry up and pick one, because I don't know how long this is going to take and I'm getting hungry," he says.

"You're the one who insisted I get a tat," I remind him, continuing to flip through the pages.

And then, I see it.

"Dude. Kyle. This one is it. I have to get this one!" I exclaim, pointing repeatedly at the design on the page.

"No fucking way, Stan. I'm not going to have a giant-ass _dragon face_ on my body."

"It doesn't have to be big!" I plea, and he rolls his eyes.

"Yes it does! That would look stupid if it was small." He takes the binder from me and flips through more pages. "How about this one?" he points.

The design is obviously meant to be centered somewhere horizontally, because it's presented almost like wings. It's a simple tribal design with no particular image being depicted, but it's what I talked about getting.

"But where would I put it? It looks like it's meant to be a tramp-stamp," I point out, and he looks like he's thinking.

"Shoulder?" he offers, and I shake my head.

"No, it needs to go somewhere else, that doesn't make sense."

"You could do the opposite of a tramp-stamp, and put it above your dick," he laughs, and I shove him playfully.

"Fuck no! That's retarded. And I don't really want that hot chick poking around my junk with a needle," I add.

"What about between your shoulder blades? Like at the base of your neck?" he offers, and shows me physically by poking the spot on my back.

"Hm, I actually like that!" I admit. And before I can say anything else, Kyle stands up and walks quickly to the counter.

"Joan, I think we're ready," he tells her, and my heart starts beating fast again. Fuck, now this is actually _happening_!

"Alright, cool. Come on over to the chair, and we'll get you set," she says, eyes in my direction. I must be frozen in shock, because Kyle has to come walk me over to the chair.

"We might need a private room. This one tends to have a weak stomach," Kyle warns Joan, and she moves her supplies from the public chair she had been setting up at and leads us to a door.

Kyle leads me around the chair and makes me sit, and I numbly watch Joan set up her equipment around the room. Kyle takes a seat in another chair (one that's obviously less intimidating than the one I'm in), and stares at me with a knowing grin on his face.

"So what did you pick?" Joan asks, suddenly at my side. I turn slightly towards her, but Kyle chimes in.

"He wants this one, right between the tops of his shoulder blades," he tells her, and she looks back at me and then to Kyle.

"He's not the talkative type, is he?"

"He's just really nervous."

"Well kid, if you want it on your back, then you'll need to get up and sit the other way in the chair," she tells me, and I make it a point to stand up without the help of Kyle again.

It seems pretty self-explanatory how to sit in this chair backwards, since there seems to be a special place for every body part to fit. And once I'm sitting, she readjusts the head rest so it becomes a face rest. I use it to face-desk, and hug around the back of the chair. Kyle is motioning for me to do breathing exercises when I peek up at him, and I glare and bury my face again.

"Don't get too comfy, Stan, you still have to take your shirt off," Kyle says triumphantly, giving me a sly grin. I sigh, and sit back enough to peel my jacket off and pull my shirt over my head. I blush at my now half-nakedness, and throw my shirt onto Kyle's giggling face.

At least I'm toned, or this would be even worse.

When I sit back down, I feel Joan rub the top of my back with something cold and wet, and quickly learn from the smell that it's alcohol. Then she measures out the area with her fingers.

"About like that?" she asks me, her fingers resting on the top of either shoulder blade.

"Yeah, that's fine," I mumble into the face rest.

"I'm going to shave the area, head's up. Any amount of hair gets in the way," she informs me, and I mumble my response again into the face rest.

I try to ignore everything that I feel, trying to numb my senses for when it's needle time. I glance up at Kyle, who is watching intently. I bet he won't seem so interested when _he's_ sitting in this chair.

When I feel Joan place something papery on my back, I jump a little. Oh god, it must be needle time...

"What's that for?" Kyle asks.

"This is the stencil. All I have to do is press this onto his skin and it transfers the outline. Saves a lot of time and pain, on his part." I spin around a bit in excitement.

"Really, no needles?" I ask quickly. Joan laughs at me.

"This is only the outline. There's still needles," she says, and my excitement fades. I return to my face rest and mope.

She presses firmly on my back, transferring the outline between my shoulder blades. When she removes the paper, she rubs more stuff on my back, and then I hear her rummage around with something metallic, and my heart rate skyrockets. Oh god, oh god, oh god...

"Okay kid, time for the moment of truth," she says, and she clicks on the tattoo gun.

I give Kyle a desperate look, and throw my hand out in his direction. He gets the hint, and scoots his chair closer and holds my hand. I don't care how gay it is, because I know I'm going to need something to squeeze. And it may as well be the one who put me up to this bullshit.

"Eep!" I squeak when the needle touches my back. 'Eep'? _Really?_ But I have no time to reflect on my girlish squeals of pain, because _ow ow ow ow_!

"Jesus, Stan! Ow!" Kyle cries as I grip his hand harder and harder, and I glare at him with tears stinging my eyes.

"Don't fucking cry, you don't know pain!" I tell him, and I hear Joan snicker behind me.

"You're both babies, if you ask me."

* * *

An hour and a half later, I have a tattoo.

My eyes didn't stop watering the entire time, and I can finally wipe them away once and for all when I hear the gun click off. Joan rubs ointment over it, saying something about it preventing infection, and hands me a mirror. When I look into it, I see her holding a mirror behind me to bend the reflection of my back from hers into mine.

"Whaddya think?" she asks, and I'm a little in shock. I didn't expect it to look so badass.

"It's so cool," I say, staring at it. It's a bit red and swollen, but still. It's going to look totally awesome.

"Dude!" Kyle says from behind me, seeing it for the first time. "That looks amazing!"

"Leave this bandage on for no less than three hours," Joan tells me as she puts a patch over the area. "If it gets infected, that's not my problem. Let me give you some info for aftercare..."

Kyle hands me my shirt and jacket as Joan rummages around in a drawer for my information, and I take the opportunity to make myself fully dressed again. A minute later, she shoves a paper at me.

"After you remove the bandage, wash the area with warm water and soap, preferably an off-brand. They sting less. If it's slimy, that's just plasma, so make sure you clean it all off. Don't use anything but your hand to clean it, because it will get irritated. You can shower with it, but don't get in any hot tubs or salt water for a few weeks.

"If it starts to scab, _don't pick at it_. You can put lotion on it to keep it from peeling, or any ointment on it if it starts to bleed or anything. _Don't_ use Neosporin, because that's not going to do any good. Keep it out of the sun for a while, and always use sunscreen or else it will fade really fast.

And of course, all of that is on the paper," Joan tells me, and I try to follow along. I'm glad to see there's more on here than what came out of her mouth. I look up at her, and she smiles and leads us out of the room.

"You're still paying for this, right?" I ask Kyle, and he nods.

"That'll be $45," Joan says, and Kyle sighs and rolls his eyes at me.

"You better be happy with it," he says, and I scoff.

"_You_ better be happy with it, you're the one who made me get it!" He hands his bank card to Joan, who swipes it and hands it back.

"Thanks boys, it's been a pleasure," she says as we turn to leave.

"Expect us back on May 26th, he has to go through the same thing!" I call over my shoulder, and Kyle pushes me the rest of the way out the door. He swings his arm around my shoulder once we're outside, and I wince loudly.

"So do you really like it? You don't hate me for making you go through all this?" he asks, noticeably removing weight from his arm around my shoulder so he doesn't hurt me.

"Honestly, I love it. I'm glad you made me do it," I admit. "So, what's next?"

"Next," he starts as we get in the car, "we pick up lunch and head back to town."

* * *

Wendy's was for lunch, which was my request, and Kyle seemed to be irritated by this. We ate that on the ride home, and now we're sitting on the hood of Kyle's car at Stark's Pond, the rest of my birthday treats in my lap.

"Okay, first thing's first," I say as I hand Kyle the open pack of cigarettes, my own dangling from my lips. He takes one out as I search my pockets for my lighter. Once successful, I light his and then mine. I inhale deeply, but my exhale of smoke is accompanied by a coughing fit. "Fuck, I hate these things."

"Me too," Kyle agrees, also coughing a little. Nonetheless, we take another drag. "Hurry up and scratch that Lotto ticket."

I make the naughty magazine into a makeshift desk on my lap, and situate the Lotto ticket so I can scratch everything off as quickly as possible. After frenzied scratching, I hold it up to check for any winnings.

"Dude... I won!" I exclaim. Kyle leans over my shoulder to investigate for himself.

"Holy shit, dude! $1000! Oh my god!" He takes the ticket from me to stare at it.

"Oh my god, Kyle, what are we gonna do with it?" I ask, still in shock.

"You have to save it! Because for my 18th, we have to go gambling and all the other stuff we couldn't do together today!"

"Yes! Damnit, why does your birthday have to be so far away?" I whine, snatching my ticket back. Holy shit, I can't believe everything that's happened today.

"Blame my parents for not having sex at the same time yours did," he kids. "And you better not spend that, seriously. That's 18th birthday money, dude!"

"Yeah yeah yeah, I know," I reassure him as I slip it into my back pocket. I take another drag of my cigarette and tear off the plastic of the magazine. "Now let's crack this baby open."

It's a good thing Kyle and I have been looking at naughty magazines together for years, or this would be incredibly awkward. And I'm certainly glad for the psychological effect of someone else being around to prevent either of us from getting a boner. At least nothing has changed...

"Real or fake?" I ask him, pointing to a blonde sprawled across the page. I personally think they're fake.

"Fake, totally. They're too big to be that perky."

I'm prevented from any further analysis, though, because my phone is going off in my pocket. I pull it out, to see that I'm being called by Wendy.

"Hey babe," I answer. I hand the magazine to Kyle, knowing this will be a little bit.

_"Stan Marsh! How dare you not show up to school today!"_ she yells into the phone, and I can't tell if she's being serious or not.

"Sorry, that wasn't really my fault. Kyle kidnapped me away to Denver for the day," I explain.

_"Well did you forget your phone? I've been texting you all day!"_ Hm, I actually had forgotten about it all day...

"Uh, no, but I just didn't check it all day... Am I in trouble?" It's almost a trap question, because having to bring it up almost always means yes.

_"Yes! I didn't get to see you today, for one, and I didn't get to give you your birthday present!"_ Jesus Christ, both of those aren't even a big deal. I turn to Kyle, who motions for me to hang up.

"Wendy, I said I'm sorry. But you don't have to yell at me, it's my birthday. Do you want me to come over later?" I ask, and Kyle face-palms in defeat.

_"Yeah, okay. I guess that's better than nothing,"_ she decides.

"Okay cool. Well I'm hanging out with Kyle still, so I'll text you when I'm coming over."

_"Fine. Love you."_

"Love you too, babe. Bye," and I hang up. Kyle is glaring at me when I turn around.

"One: ew. Two: really? You're gonna ditch me?" he whines, and I take the last drag of my cigarette and flick it into the pond.

"Well, I figured it would be okay since I got to spend all day with you..." I reason, but he still looks disappointed. "Look, we'll have another cig and finish looking at the magazine, and then I'll go. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine." I sigh; he still looks sad, and I know it's more than because I'm leaving him. "But you have to admit that I gave you the best birthday."

"I don't think there's anything Wendy could give me as a birthday gift that would top all of yours," I tell him, in full honesty. He grins, and grabs another cigarette from the pack.

Right before I light him, I notice a tiny white fleck flitter down from the sky and land on his nose, and we both stare at it in wonder.

"It's fucking snowing!" I yell, noticing many more snowflakes falling around us."Best birthday ever!"

"Damnit, perfect timing, too!" Kyle grumbles, though his face still looks excited by the tiny white flakes. I scoot closer to him and hand him the lighter.

"Okay, two more cigarettes. I will compromise my own health to buy more time with you," I tell him, and he flashes me a smile that makes my heart skip.

"I'm gonna take my sweet time, then," he says, lighting up.

"Me, too."

* * *

"Where the hell have you been?" is my greeting from Wendy when she opens her door. "I thought you were gonna be here an hour ago."

"Sorry, I was with Kyle." She scoffs, and then pauses to sniff me.

"Have you been smoking?" Oh lord, I don't know if it's better to lie about this one or not.

"No, we were at a casino. Everyone else was smoking." Now she's glaring at me.

"Kyle's not old enough to gamble, Stan."

"Okay, yes,_ Mother_, I had a couple cigarettes. I _am_ old enough to buy them now," I tell her, and roll my eyes.

"Christ, that doesn't mean you should smoke them! You're going to get lung cancer!" And now I'm glaring at her.

"You haven't wished me 'happy birthday' yet." Suddenly, her expression changes as a sly grin creeps across her face.

"That's because I have a special way of saying it this year..." she purrs. I can't help it, I'm a sucker for her when she's sexy. All my irritatedness has melted away, and she grabs my hand and leads me upstairs to her room.

"Are your parents home?"

"Thankfully, no. They won't be home until eight..."

Once we're in the security of her room, she closes the door and we practically jump each other. It's so frantic and heated, it's driving me crazy. She takes of my jacket and I lead us to her bed, tumbling onto the mattress in a heap. After situating myself, I'm leaning over her as we make out. Her tongue is amazing...

She wraps her legs around my waist and uses her feet to press against my lower back. I take her hint, and start grinding against her; something we've been doing recently. It's not skin-on-skin, but it still feels amazing...

"I got a tattoo..." I whisper between kisses as I pull her into a sitting position. She straddles me and gives me a shocked look.

"What? Where?" I realize I can take the bandage off now, actually.

"On my back. Look," I tell her, and I pull my shirt over my head. I spin around just enough for her to see where the bandage is. "You can take it off, but put it back on. I'm not ready to go clean it yet..."

She carefully peels the bandage back to reveal the swollen area, and her eyes light up. She puts it back in place a bit less carefully than she removed it, and grabs my face to continue kissing me.

"Oh my god, that's so hot..." She takes the opportunity to push me back onto the bed, and she is still straddling me. "Are you ready for your present...?"

I can only nod.

In the same manner I had done, she lifts her shirt over her head, revealing a sexy black bra. Okay, seeing her in a bra isn't anything new... But my eyes are glued to her hands, moving up behind her back, then to her shoulders, and...

...Then the bra is laying across my stomach.

Sorry, Kyle, but this comes pretty damn close to yours as being the best birthday present yet.

* * *

**A/N:** Happy birthday Stan~ Though this is very early. XD Sorry it's so long, but I had a lot of fun writing this chapter! Stan's a naughty boy~

I REALLY need suggestions for scenes to draw! I'm considering drawing four for this chapter instead of the usual three, because there's so much going on... So please tell me what you'd like to see!

Thanks for reading!


End file.
